


Say You'll Never Let Me Go

by Kats_watermelon



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Retelling, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-13 20:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10521357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kats_watermelon/pseuds/Kats_watermelon
Summary: John Murphy was born without a soulmark on his wrist. On the Ark, that made him a freak. He figures once he gets to the ground, it won't matter. But the universe seems to have other plans for him.





	

_“Look at his wrist!”_

_“Aww, what a freak!”_

John Murphy ran the whole way home, tears streaking down his eight-year-old face as one hand covered his left wrist. His left wrist, flesh and tendons and bone covered by pale, white, and empty skin.

His mother stopped him at the door, crouching down to put one hand on his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. John showed her his wrist.

“The kids at school say I’m a freak,” he said. “Because I don’t have a mark.”

His mother gently took his wrist, turning it over to look at the blank space. She looked back up at him with a sad smile.

“You’re special, John. The kids at school don’t realize it, but I do. You’re special. You don’t need a mark to make you feel special because you already are.” She stood, slipping his hand into hers. “Come on. I’ll make you something even more special for dinner.”

As John sat in their small apartment, watching his parents, he found his eyes drawn to the small marks on their left wrists. Identical. Matching.

Soulmarks.

Everyone had one. Except John Murphy. His wrist showed no such mark. Absolutely nothing had ever appeared on his skin. At a young age, he already knew.

He wasn’t meant to have a soulmate. 

 

* * *

 

 It seemed fitting, to Murphy, that he would be sent to die on the very day his mother had. Truly an ingenious cosmic joke.

Though, that seemed to be all Murphy’s life was. One big cosmic joke.

He fully expected to die during the landing. He was almost hoping for it, figuring that dying immediately in a ball of fire would be better than dying slowly of whatever the fuck radiation did to a person. Imagine his disappointment when that didn’t happen.

He found a way to survive, though. He always did. He got into Bellamy’s group, the inner circle. He liked Bellamy, liked the way he led the delinquents effortlessly. He also liked that Bellamy didn’t say a word about the blank skin on Murphy’s wrist.

And the fact that Bellamy had a nice ass wasn’t exactly a con.

The ground was incredible, too. Air cleaner and crisper than Murphy had ever tasted, every breath sweet on his tongue. More colors than he would have ever imagined. A stream that ran cool, clean water bluer than he’d thought could exist. An open sky that felt full of possibilities. And nobody gawking at his wrist. It was perfect.

They’d been on the ground for two days when it happened.

Murphy was sitting in his tent, sharpening one of the knives he’d fastened out of metal from the dropship, when he caught the flash of a dark smudge on his wrist. His _left_ wrist. He nearly sliced open his palm throwing the knife to the side in his haste to get a second look. He thought for a moment that he was hallucinating, scooting closer to the lantern to get better lighting. It was quickly revealed that no, he wasn’t.

There was a soulmark on his wrist.

He stared at it, his eyes widening as he tried to process this new development. The one thing that had set him apart, made him an outcast, a freak – and it was fixed in an instant?

_Maybe it’s just a smudge of dirt._

He licked his thumb and rubbed at the mark furiously, but he already knew that it wouldn’t rub off. He stared at it some more, memorizing the shape and swirl of it. It was circular, with a small swirl in the middle. He stared at it until his eyes ached and screamed for sleep. He reluctantly turned off the lantern and laid down, thoughts racing through his head. Why would his soulmark appear once he was on Earth? Why hadn’t it been there when he was born?

He finally rolled over and went to sleep.

 

* * *

 

He tried to hide the small mark the next day, knowing that some of the kids in the camp would ask questions if they saw the black mark on his wrist. He found himself glancing at it throughout the day, as if he was trying to prove to himself that it was still there. It was.

A small smile began to find its way onto his face.

Of course, everything just went downhill from there.

Murphy got hanged for something he didn’t do and then banished. Cosmic joke.

He was wandering through the woods when he got picked up by the grounders. They tortured him, day in and day out. Pulled his fingernails off, sliced a million cuts open all over his body and watched the blood dribble out.

Cosmic joke.

The worst part was, he kept staring at the symbol on his wrist, thinking, _I can’t die now. Not when there’s someone out there. Someone meant for me. I can’t die now. I have to survive._

He was released and went the only place he could think of – the dropship. He stumbled through the woods, sick and tired and in pain.

Cosmic joke.

He returned and was an outcast again. Bellamy, once his friend, wanted to kill him.

Cosmic fucking joke.

Bitterness built up inside of him, forming into a heavy stone in his chest. The cosmic joke was getting a little old. The second he thought he had the upper hand, had even the slightest amount of _control_ , it was ripped away.

Second round of Grounder Camp was significantly less fun than the first. It involved getting stabbed in the leg.

Cosmic joke.

Open up to Raven. Get beat up by Bellamy.

Cosmic joke.

That’s all anything ever was for Murphy. One big cosmic joke. Nothing went right.

Except the little round mark on the inside of his left wrist.

By the time he agreed to go on Jaha’s trip to the City of Light, whatever bullshit that was, he’d gotten pretty good at hiding it. The mark felt personal, like something nobody else was meant to see. He would smear dirt over it or keep his left wrist facing him to avoid people seeing it. He wanted to keep that one part of himself to himself. Pike had exposed the rest to the delinquents, after all. Was it wrong to want to keep his soulmark to himself?

It was the only part of the cosmic joke that he was beginning to like.

 

* * *

 

They’d been walking for hours.

“Sir? Do you recognize anything?”

Murphy rolled his eyes. It was the fucking desert. Everything looked the same.

“Their tent was near here. I’m sure of it,” Jaha replied. Murphy sighed, following after him. The others in the group murmured amongst themselves.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, walking through them. “You guys got someplace better to be?”

As he was walking down the hill after Jaha, he spotted an abandoned-looking cart sitting in the sand. He stopped, squinting at it.

“Do you see anyone?” he asked. Jaha didn’t answer, instead moving closer. Murphy followed cautiously. With what he knew about the ground, there was no way that cart was really abandoned. He subconsciously turned his left wrist towards himself.

The second they got close, a young woman jumped out of the cart, gripping a knife tightly and shouting something in grounder.

 _Called it,_ Murphy said internally. He stayed back a little bit, watching. Guns clicked all around him, even as Jaha said, “We mean you no harm. Do you speak English?”

“What do you want?” she demanded, her voice cracking a little.

Jaha said something else, and the girl took the covering off the lower half of her face, revealing a facial tattoo that ran down the side of her nose onto her left cheek. Murphy found himself staring at the tattoo, something about it familiar, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

The girl explained that she and her brother had been on the way to the City of Light when they had been attacked and her brother had been killed. Murphy felt a slight pang in his heart for her. How long had she been alone in the desert, with no water or supplies?

“Give her some water,” Jaha said. Murphy immediately reached for his canteen. The man next to him grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Touch me again and I’ll end you,” Murphy said, pulling his arm away. He turned around and Jaha raised an eyebrow. Murphy sighed and turned back to the man. “In a non-criminal way.”

He walked up to the girl, who eyed him suspiciously. He held out the canteen and she took it, drinking greedily.

“What’s your name?” Jaha asked.

“Emori.”

A finger of lightning traipsed down Murphy’s spine, though he didn’t know why. _Emori_. Of all the grounder names he’d heard so far, he liked that one the best.

She told them she could get them to the City of Light, in exchange for pulling her cart. She turned back to Murphy, handing him the canteen.

 “Thanks,” she said. Murphy stared, his eyes caught in hers. They were a deep brown, warm and welcoming. Something about her was so familiar.

“It’s, uh, it’s no problem,” he stuttered, trying to regain his sense of balance. The corners of her lips twitched upwards and she gestured for him to walk with her.

Murphy walked next to her in silence for a while, getting the strange butterflies out of his stomach. He finally worked up the right amount of courage to ask her a few more questions.

“What made you ditch your home and risk your life to cross the beach from hell?”

She snorted as his wording, but sobered quickly.

“It doesn’t matter.”

He watched the light bounce off her eyes.

“Come on, take my mind off all the fun we’re having.”

He watched her expression shift, the tattoo twisting as she spoke. It looked a little like a wave rippling across her cheek.

“It wasn’t my decision to leave.”

“Kicked out?” Another outcast like him. He liked Emori a little more every second he spent with her. “Okay, now I’m interested. What did you do?”

She avoided his eyes and his gut twisted a little. He already disliked the sadness in them.

“You wouldn’t look at me the same.”

“I might surprise you.”

He could tell she didn’t believe him. Her shoulders rolled and she changed the subject, asking why he was in the Dead Zone. _There it is_.

_Cosmic joke._

“You’re one of the few people on this planet who doesn’t hate me at the moment,” he said, watching for her reaction. She frowned a little. He dropped his gaze to the ground. “I don’t want to blow it.”

“Now I’m interested.”

Murphy looked up and his heart skipped a beat at the smile on her face. He suddenly wished that she would never stop smiling, never. And here he was, about to blow it.

“I killed two people.” He couldn’t look at her. “Tried to kill two more.” _She hated him already._ “I’m the bad guy.”

She didn’t say anything after that and Murphy was internally cursing every star in the sky for fucking this up.

Then she stopped him with a hand on his arm. The touch was short, almost insignificant, but it sent a bolt of electricity up Murphy’s arm. Emori waited for the people behind them to pass, then pulled off the bulky glove on her left hand. Murphy stared at the long, mutated fingers, some fused together, and the little extra offshoots. He stared.

_It was beautiful._

“My people saw me as a stain on the bloodline,” Emori explained. Murphy slowly raised his gaze to meet her eyes, deep with that sadness again. “Something to erase.”

She didn’t say anything past that, beginning to walk away. Murphy’s chest constricted.

“Screw them,” he said. She paused, turning back to look at him. He smiled a little. “I wouldn’t cover it up; I think it’s pretty badass.”

He watched as the sadness melted away and that smile returned.

“Liar.”

He took a few long steps to catch up with her and they walked on, each of them comforted in the knowledge that the other was an outcast. Murphy felt a genuine smile on his face for the first time since he’d landed on the godforsaken ground.

Not that the universe could let him have that. Nope. Not even for a second.

He reflected on that bitterly when Emori put the knife to his throat, pressing in hard enough that he was sure she’d leave a cut.

Cosmic _fucking_ joke.

She had everyone on their knees, all of their supplies in the cart, when she turned him around and pushed him down.

“What a surprise,” he said bitterly, looking up at her. Her eyes were unreadable. “You’re just like everyone else.”

She leaned in close and whispered in his ear.

“Due north. It’s due north.”

She pulled back, her left hand gentle on his cheek. A small smile quirked the corners of her lips upwards.

“Good luck, John.”

That was when she hit him. 

 

* * *

 

 _Cosmic joke_.

_“John, honey.”_

“Mom?”

_“John, did you get in another fight at school?”_

_“The other kids were picking on me.”_

Murphy stared at the scene in front of him. There was his mom, crouched down in front of his eight-year-old self.

“Mom?” he whispered.

_She pushed her thumb across his younger self’s cheek, wiping away the tear there._

_“It’s okay, honey. The other kids are mean to you because you’re different.”_

_“I don’t want to be different,” the little boy sniffed. “I want to be normal.”_

“Mom,” Murphy said, trying to step forward. His feet were glued in place.

_“Different isn’t a bad thing,” his mom said. “Different is good. You’re different. They’re afraid of what they don’t understand. They don’t see what I see.”_

_“What do you see?”_

_“I see a brave boy,” his mom said, poking him in the chest to make him giggle. “With a strong heart and a strong mind.”_

“Mom,” Murphy shouted, tears pouring down his face. She didn’t hear him.

_“I see a kind boy who is a little bit shorter than the rest of his class,” she said, ruffling his hair to get another giggle out of him. “And one that has more heart in his little finger than most of them have in their whole bodies.”_

_“Really?”_

_“Of course.”_

Murphy shut his eyes, clamping his hands down over his ears. His mom was dead. It was all in the past.

_Cosmic joke._

_“John.”_

_Cosmic joke._

“John.”

 _Due north_.

“John.”

Murphy opened his eyes slowly, Jaha’s face coming into focus above him. The older man smiled, helping Murphy up. Murphy squinted at the group, surprised to realize that it was dark out. The man that had grabbed his arm earlier complained about something, not that that was a new development.

“Due north,” Murphy cut in. They all turned to stare at him. “That’s what she said. Due north.”

Jaha doubted him, but Murphy couldn’t shake the feeling that Emori was telling the truth. As they headed after the North Star, Jaha said, “This is what I would call having faith.”

_I do have faith. In Emori._

“Nah,” Murphy said, hiding his thoughts behind a careless smirk. “I just have nothing better to do.” 

 

* * *

 

 _Cosmic joke_.

Murphy wrapped himself in the blanket, staring at the mark on his left wrist. He had to survive.

The gunshot echoed from the TV again, but Murphy didn’t even flinch, the sound all too familiar to him. How many days had he been trapped in the bunker? Had it been one hundred yet? He’d lost count. It was at least sixty.

He would die down there. He couldn’t die.

He picked up the gun off the table, turning his wrist so that he couldn’t see the mark on it. He lifted the gun with shaking hands, flinching when the barrel touched the underside of his chin. His entire body trembled as he tried to squeeze the trigger.

_I see a brave boy._

Tears snaked down his cheeks, his hands shaking even more.

_With a strong heart._

He tried to convince himself to just pull the trigger.

_I don’t want to die alone._

He sobbed, the gun falling from his hands. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t die alone. He curled in on himself, tears dripping from his nose.

 _Clunk_.

He looked up, the sound registering. The bunker door was open.

 _Cosmic joke_.

He leapt to his feet and sprinted for freedom. 

 

* * *

 

“John?”

Murphy stared incredulously at the boat, squinting at the familiar figure standing on the deck.

“Emori?”

Her face broke into a wide smile that made him forget her betrayal. He would stay another eighty-six days in the bunker just to see her smile like that again.

“I don’t believe it,” she said. He couldn’t help the small smile that curved his lips. “You coming?”

He climbed aboard, settling down next to her and crossing his arms over his chest.

“So,” he said. “Who’d you steal the boat from?”

She just laughed at that and Murphy could have sworn his heart stopped. Her laugh contained all the constellations in the sky, all the burning stars whose light still shined after they’d died. She said something more, but Murphy was too busy dying on the inside to pay attention. He thanked whatever lucky star he had that he’d found her again. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to leave her.

He sat next to her, watching the water ripple by as she steered the boat away from the island. Jaha meditated on the deck. It was one of the most peaceful moments that Murphy had since he’d landed on the ground. He almost forgot about the cosmic joke that was his life, and the small round mark on the inside of his left wrist was pushed to the back of his mind.

They hit land the next morning. Murphy was tasked with waking Jaha up from his little Zen nap.

“Earth to Jaha.” The chancellor opened his eyes. “We’re here.”

“Already?”

“It’s a lot faster with a motor,” Murphy said. He turned to see the big man with the deformed face snatching a strange backpack out of Emori’s hands. She looked startled, saying, “Hey, I’m just trying to help.”

The bitterness in Murphy’s chest pulsed.

“Yeah, as I recall, last time you helped, two of my friends blew up,” he said. Emori smiled a little, seeming to concede that to him.

“No minefields this time,” she assured him. “We’ll go around the Dead Zone.”

“Let’s get a move on,” Jaha called.

“We head west,” Emori replied, pointing in the direction she meant. “Toward that rise.”

Murphy narrowed his eyes a little.

“This whole helpful guide act,” he said to Emori. “I’m not really buying it.”

She turned around, smirking at him, and his pulse quickened when she stepped closer to him.

“Then I guess you’re just going to have to keep an eye on me,” she said. Murphy watched her walk away, smiling to himself.

_That won’t be a problem at all._

 

* * *

 

They’d stopped to build a fire a while down the trail. Jaha and the man with the mutated face immediately got down and started meditating. Emori’s brother crouched down next to Jaha.

“Hey,” he said. “Have you really been to the City of Light?”

“Shut up, Otan,” Emori said, carrying her bundle of sticks past him. “I’m not listening to that shit again.”

Murphy snorted. He was with Emori on that one. She knelt down next to him, putting her sticks into the small circle of stones they’d made. Behind her, Jaha led Otan further down the trail, probably to spew his bullshit to him. Murphy rolled his eyes.

“Thank God,” he said. “He’s got somebody else to preach to.”

Emori glanced up at him with an amused look. Murphy tried to ignore the skip in his heartbeat at the sight of her smiling again. “Not a believer?”

“I believe you’re here for a reason,” he said, tilting his head as he looked down at her. “I just don’t know what it is yet.”

She laughed a little at that, but quickly sobered and explained that they’d been recruited. Murphy frowned, listening to her explain that they collected tech and brought it to the island. He wondered why ALIE would want tech.

Emori suddenly tucked her knife into its sheath, grinning slyly. She stood up. Murphy quickly stood with her, frowning.

“What are you doing?”

She smiled at him, though it wasn’t the kind of smile that made his heart skip.

“Don’t try to be a hero and I’ll leave you on your feet this time,” she said. Murphy raised his eyebrows, even as his gaze dropped to her lips.

“A hero?” _She thought he was a hero?_ “And here I thought you got me.”

She smirked at that. He caught her arm before she could continue, ignoring the lightning that shot up from his fingers.

“Are you really about to steal from the people you steal for?” he demanded. She hissed, “We have other buyers. Be quiet,” and pulled out of his grasp, tiptoeing up to the man with the mutated face and grabbing the metal backpack.

Before Murphy could blink, the man was on his feet with his hands wrapped around Emori’s throat. Panic wrapped a metal belt around Murphy’s chest and he immediately tried to talk the man into putting Emori down. When he didn’t listen, Murphy grabbed a stick and hit him in the head. This elicited exactly zero response. Emori was choking, her eyes wide as she struggled for air. Murphy panicked, fear driving him to hit the man again and again, until he turned to Murphy and said in a terrifyingly calm voice, “There is no pain in the City of Light.”

Emori slashed his throat.

Murphy watched in amazement and horror as the man dropped Emori and fell to the ground. Emori barely took a minute to recover despite the blood that was sprayed on her face and grabbed the backpack, beginning to take off down the trail.

“You coming or what?” she called. Murphy looked down at the man she had just killed. A part of him was impressed that Emori had managed to pull out her knife and deliver a killing blow even as her windpipe was being crushed. She just wouldn’t stop surprising him. The other part of him was terrified of what he had just witnessed, the man barely flinching even when Emori cut his throat. He finally turned and jogged down the trail after Emori.

She started washing the blood off of her hands and face the second they reached the boat. He took the backpack, trying to figure out how to open it. He was still reeling from what he had seen, the _thump_ from when the man had hit the ground still ringing in his head.

“As soon as Otan gets here, we can leave,” Emori said. Murphy barely registered the slight tremble in her voice, the bitterness in his chest clawing its way to the surface when he said, “Partners in crime, right?”

“Whatever’s in there, we’ll split it three ways,” Emori said. “You earned that.” Murphy snorted bitterly. He didn’t earn anything. He’d never earned anything in his life. He’d had to fight for everything he had. Leave it to the cosmic joke that was his life to make the one thing he earned come at the price of someone else’s life.

“All we had to do was kill a guy,” he said. Footsteps crunched closer to him and Emori knelt down next to him. He turned his head to look at her, building a mask over his expression. He didn’t want her to see the storm inside of him. He swallowed hard as he met her eyes, just as deep and brown as they’d been the day the two of them met.

She surprised him by leaning in and kissing him gently on the cheek. Warmth spread from the spot that her lips had met his. Murphy sat there in shock for a second, raising his eyes to meet hers again. He saw how scared she'd been.

“Thank you for saving my life,” she said softly. Murphy couldn’t take his eyes from her face, a few specks of blood still splattered on the right side. She dropped her gaze and he could sense her pulling away emotionally. She grabbed the backpack, looking up at him with a playful smirk.  “Let me.” Murphy smiled a little and watched her jimmy a knife into the pack, prying it open.

“I could have done that,” he protested. Emori scoffed, even as her smile widened. Murphy felt a ridiculous sense of relief at seeing that smile again. He found it difficult to take his eyes off of her. She pulled the pack open, revealing a tangled mess of wires and lights.

“That’s tech,” Emori breathed. Murphy frowned at the infinity sign, pulling the chip Jaha had given him earlier out of his pocket and comparing it. The connection clicked in his mind and his eyes widened.

“Not just tech,” he said. “The stupid son of a bitch brought her with him.”

_Cosmic joke._

Otan reappeared, his scarf gone. Murphy felt his stomach sink into his shoes. Sure enough, Otan closed the backpack and entered a code on it. Murphy grabbed the backpack and before he realized his mistake, Otan had a knife at Emori’s throat. Panic returned to Murphy’s chest and his head filled with the image of blood leaking from Emori’s throat, the life draining out of warm brown eyes. She was the first person to not look at him like he was a monster.

She was scared, demanding to know what Otan was doing, demanding for him to let her go. Murphy saw Jaha walk up behind them and anger rose up in his chest.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, John,” Jaha said.

“What the hell is going on?” Emori demanded, her voice shaking again. Murphy glared at Jaha, wondering what it would feel like to put his hands around the damn man’s neck and squeeze. It wasn’t the first time he’d wondered that.

_“I see a brave boy.”_

“Otan ate the damn chip, that’s what’s going on,” Murphy said.

“No one else has to die today,” Jaha said calmly. Murphy realized what that meant. Jaha would kill Emori. Jaha would kill her without blinking just to save the bitch that had killed the world. Fear and panic pulled the metal band around his chest tight. He glanced down at the backpack in his hand.

“Tell me, is your imaginary friend waterproof?” He held it over the water. “Should we find out?”

Jaha started spewing more bullshit about the City of Light, but all Murphy could think about was the way Otan was pushing the knife into Emori’s throat, and how easy it would be for him to spill her blood all over the dock.

“Let her go right now,” Murphy spat. “Or I’ll drown the bitch in the red dress.”

Jaha hesitated for a minute, then backed off. Otan released Emori and she ran to Murphy’s side, her hand on her throat. Relief coursed through Murphy’s veins.

“Emori, get on the boat,” he said. She took one last look at her brother and followed Murphy’s instructions. Jaha held out his hand for the pack. Murphy looked the chancellor dead in the eye and threw the pack as hard as he could into the water far away from the boat. “Start the boat! We’re getting out of here.”

He ran to the boat, jumping on board. Emori gunned the motor and they sped away from the dock. Murphy glanced back to see Jaha standing by the water, the pack dripping in his hand. He turned away, focusing on Emori’s shaking form at the wheel of the boat. He waited until Jaha was far, far behind before he said, “Stop the boat.”

Emori did as he said, though she kept her back to him, taking her hands off the wheel and clutching her left hand in her right. Murphy grabbed a rag from off the seat and leaned over the edge of the boat, getting a little wet in the water before bringing it back to Emori. He gently took her shoulders and sat her down. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. He carefully washed the blood off her face, as gently as he could. When he was finished, he tossed the rag to the side and waited for her to say something.

“Otan didn’t care about my hand,” she said quietly, her right hand tightening over it. “He always promised he’d never leave me alone. I thought I would have him forever.”

Murphy looked down at her gloved hand and placed one of his over it.

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “Jaha chipped him. He’s gone.”

A tear dripped off Emori’s nose. Murphy set his hand on her face and pushed the tears away. He wasn’t sure where the sudden softness had come from, but when Emori leaned into the touch, he forgot to care.

A few minutes passed before Emori stood, a trembling smile on her lips.

“Well, it looks like it’s just us now,” she said. “Where do you want to go now?”

Murphy grinned.

“Wherever you want to.” 

 

* * *

 

They found the cave by accident. They’d been running from the latest man they’d robbed, ducking through the woods, when they stumbled upon it. Emori had grinned, drawing her knife and heading inside. Murphy had followed with a healthy amount of caution, but there was nothing in the cave but a couple of rats that made a decent meal.

They used furs to make a bed and built a fire pit in the middle of the cave. Murphy found a few vines that he hung in front of the entrance to hide it a little. Once he’d finished with that, he headed back inside to find Emori with her glove off, rinsing off her hand with water from a canteen. When she heard him coming, she reached for the glove again. Murphy caught her wrist, smiling.

“I don’t care about your hand,” he said. She lowered her gaze to the ground and he captured her attention by kissing her cheek. “You still rob better than me and I’ve got two boring hands.”

She laughed at that and Murphy let go of her wrist. He went to stand up, but his eyes caught on something on her wrist.

“Wait,” he said, suddenly unable to breathe. “What’s that?”

Emori glanced down at the small round mark on her wrist that was normally covered by her glove.

“It’s a starmark,” she said. “They’re said to be bestowed by the stars, to lead us to our true loves.”

Murphy swallowed hard, holding out his left hand. Emori’s eyes widened as she took in the mark on his wrist, her eyes flicking between it and the matching one on hers. She inhaled sharply.

“That’s…”

“I was born without one,” Murphy said, the words tumbling out of his mouth faster than he could register. “On the Ark it made me a freak. When we landed on the ground, it… just appeared. I didn’t know why.”

Emori’s eyes raised to meet his. He said the next words hesitantly.

“I think it’s maybe… because you were down here the whole time.”

He realized there were tears in her eyes, even as she started to laugh. She reached out to set her hands on his face, shaking fingers tracing over every line. She pulled him closer and pressed her lips to his, a trembling smile under his lips. He was startled, but his hands quickly moved to her waist and pulled her closer. 

They ended up on their sides on the furs, still kissing. Her hands strung through his hair and he rolled over until he was on top of her. They broke apart, Emori still laughing.

“I can’t believe it,” she whispered, her eyes searching his. “I can’t believe it.”

Murphy smiled, his thumb running across the tattoo on her cheek. He finally realized why it looked so familiar to him. The swirl mimicked that of their soulmarks.

_Their soulmarks._

He gently took her left hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the round mark. He moved up her hand, kissing her knuckles, then each finger. Emori started to say something, but before she could, he kissed her lips again. She didn’t seem to mind.

For a few minutes, it felt as if the cosmic joke was over. Those minutes extended into days, then weeks. The two of them were still robbing people on the road, surviving the best way they knew. They’d come back to the cave and inventory their supplies, cook up dinner, and sleep tangled up in each other. Murphy felt himself smiling more and more, his smiles even wider when they were accompanied with Emori’s.

Of course, the universe couldn’t let him have that.

They had just gotten one of their best hauls yet. The man they’d robbed had been pulling an entire cart that they’d managed to snag. Murphy was sorting the supplies out in the cave when Emori said, “I want to go after my brother.”

Murphy froze, but recovered quickly.

“We’ve talked about this,” he said, tossing the bag of spices to the side. “Otan’s with Jaha at camp. Why would you want to go there?”

“He’s my brother,” Emori said, her voice cracking. “If there’s a chance…. I have to try and get him back.”

“Going after Otan’s not a good move,” Murphy said, as a seed of fear took root in his chest. Was she going to just leave if he didn’t want to go? “It’s not a survivor’s move.”

“Then wait for me.” There it was. “I’ll come back.”

 _Cosmic joke_.

“In this world, when people leave, they don’t come back.”

“ _I_ did,” Emori said, stepping closer. Murphy took a step back, shaking his head.

“Not for me you didn’t,” he said, a bit of hurt seeping into his voice. “I just so happened to be there.”

“John, come with me,” she said, reaching her hand up to caress his face. Her thumb brushed dangerously close to his lips. Murphy desperately wanted to say yes, to follow her until the ends of the earth, until his feet bled and his legs gave out. He wanted to go with her into hell. Her eyes were sparkling with tears, begging for him to come with her. He considered it for one, wild second.

“I’m not that stupid,” he said, stepping back. He ignored the way her eyes flashed with hurt and turned away, grabbing a canteen of alcohol off the pile of supplies and walking out of the cave. He climbed to the top and waited. A minute later, she walked out, a bag of supplies slung over her shoulder. She didn’t look back. He took a long drink from the canteen, shutting his eyes as a single tear slipped down his face. Of course she left. The mark on her wrist wasn’t enough to make her stay. The fact that he loved her wasn’t enough to make her stay.

_Cosmic joke._

He stayed up there until the canteen was empty and his vision wobbled. He climbed down on unsteady legs and headed back into the cave, face-planting on the furs that they’d slept in together just the night before and letting the tears leak out. They still smelled of her.

_Cosmic joke._

 

* * *

 

He knelt down next to the dead animal, dipping his fingers into its blood and smearing it across his cheek. Emori always did a better job than him, but he could manage.

“I do a much better job of making you look dead.”

Murphy jumped, shooting to his feet. He whipped around and saw Emori standing there with a grin that could outshine the sun. He swallowed. What was she doing there?

“Your brother–”

“Can wait,” Emori finished, stepping closer. “Until I can convince you to join me.” She took another step closer, close enough that Murphy could see the little gold flecks in her eyes. “Which I will.”

He smiled slowly, warmth spreading in his chest. She was smiling in that way that made him feel like he could reach up and take the moon from the sky. Behind him, he heard grounders shouting and grinned.

“Right on time.”

Emori nodded, her grin widening. She hurried into the bushes while Murphy collapsed to the road. He waited as the hoofbeats got closer and closed his eyes. He wondered who it would be this time. It sounded like multiple people. Maybe a group of merchants.

He knew when he was hauled to his feet that he was screwed. A sword was put to his throat.

“We know you’re not alone. Where’s the girl?”

Murphy’s chest constricted. He couldn’t let them find Emori.

“She left.”

“Find her,” the grounder ordered. He shoved Murphy to his knees, the sword hovering closer to his throat. “You’ve been caught stealing in the Commander’s woods.”

Murphy swallowed hard as the man continued, “The punishment for this is death.” He thought to the cave, wondering if they would find it. It was far enough away. He saw Emori out of the corner of his eye, a knife drawn and a snarl on her lips. She had to get out of there.

“I’ll ask you one more time. Where’s the girl?”

The sword pressed into the underside of Murphy’s jaw and he hoped Emori would get out before the man cut his throat. He didn’t want her to see him die. He managed to get up the courage to say, “Go float yourself.”

The sword pressed further into Murphy’s throat and he lifted his eyes to the sky. Before the blade could break the skin, though, another grounder shouted something. They’d found the chip in his bag.

_Cosmic joke._

“Where did you get this?”

Murphy didn’t say anything, a plan formulating in his head. The grounder growled, thrusting the sword at him again. Murphy’s lips curled into a smirk.

“I guess if you kill me now, you’ll never find out.”

The grounder snarled, “On your feet,” and yanked him up roughly. Murphy met Emori’s eyes briefly, trying to convey everything there was to say in that momentary contact.

_Get back to the cave._

_Get the supplies._

_Get out of here._

_Forget about me. You can’t follow._

_I love you._

Then he was being dragged along with the grounders, far away from the only person he cared about.

 

* * *

 

Round three of Grounder Camp. Not as bad as the first two rounds, admittedly, but significantly more frustrating.

A bald man with weird-ass tattoos on his head wanted to know about Clarke. Murphy got a little roughed up (scratch that – a lot roughed up) during their time together. He wondered why the man wanted to know so much about Clarke. Then, very suddenly, he changed tactics and wanted to know about the chip.

“Tell me about this.”

Murphy stared at it. That damn chip. That had nearly gotten Emori killed. He could still see the knife pressing into her throat. The bitch in the red dress. Why would Bald Grounder want to know about it?

Murphy had been silent for too long. The grounder got out the staff. Murphy realized his mistake too late and tried to remedy it – too late.

As he was being beaten for what felt like the millionth time, he prayed that Emori was safe. She had to be safe. Of all the things in the world, she was the one thing he couldn’t lose. Wherever she was, she had to be safe.

He couldn’t live if she wasn’t.

 

* * *

 

Murphy opened his eyes slowly, blinking. Morning light was filtering in through… was that a window?

“Daddy!”

A little girl with dark hair and big brown eyes bounced up and down on his chest. He blinked.

_Daddy?_

“Get up!” she cried. “Mommy says you have to cook breakfast!”

He let the little girl pull him out of bed, bewildered. He’d been sleeping in a _bed_ , a real bed with a wooden frame and some kind of mattress. It was covered in furs, though, and he recognized them to be the ones he and Emori had back at the cave. The morning light was filtering through a window. He looked around more, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. It looked like he was in some kind of cabin.

The little girl dragged him through a doorway and into another room. This one had a large, unidentifiable fur on the floor and a round wooden table surrounded by three mismatched chairs. Another window offered a view of a central courtyard of some kind. Murphy squinted at it.

_Am I in Arkadia?_

“Mommy!” the little girl yelled, dragging Murphy through another door into a small kitchen. There were a few cupboards and a stove and a _sink_ , a real sink, with running water. Murphy’s eyes were immediately drawn to the familiar woman standing at the sink. She turned at the little girl’s cry and smiled widely. Murphy’s eyes widened and his heart skipped at the sight of Emori’s face. The little girl let go of Murphy’s hand and jumped into Emori’s arms.

“I got Daddy up,” she said smugly. Emori smiled, quirking one eyebrow at Murphy.

“Yes, we all know how difficult that can be,” she said. “Iko, why don’t you go next door and see if Uncle Miller is willing to lend us any eggs for breakfast?”

The little girl skipped out, humming to herself. Emori set her hand on Murphy’s shoulder and kissed him softly, turning to the sink again. Murphy realized that she’d been washing dishes. _Dishes_.

“How did you sleep?” she asked. He blinked.

“Good, I guess,” he said. “Had – uh, I had weird dreams.”

She snorted.

“I’d consider it weird if you didn’t have weird dreams,” she said. He noticed that her left hand was fully exposed, the soulmark on her left wrist lit up by the sun through the window. He glanced down at his own wrist, the soulmark there dark against his pale skin.

“I was hoping,” Emori said, drawing Murphy out of his thoughts. “That you would take Iko to the market today. She’s been itching to see Clarke’s stall. Apparently, Miller and his ridiculous husband have been filling her head with stories about Clarke. About the mountain. Iko is excited to meet her.”

Murphy snorted.

“Not sure why she would be excited about that, but I’ll take her.”

Then he realized. He didn’t know where that was. Why had he agreed? It had felt so natural, so easy. He didn’t know what was going on, but he had to roll with it.

“If,” he said, sliding up next to Emori and slipping his hands around her waist. “You come with me.” He rested his chin on her shoulder. “Please?”

Emori turned in his arms, winding her arms around his neck.

“I have things to do here,” she said, even as a smile danced along her lips. Murphy cocked his head to one side, taking in all the little details. This Emori was older, with a small new scar on her lip and more freckles than he remembered. She still had the gold flecks in her eyes, though, and the mischievous glint to her smile.

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like drying out meat for the winter, and helping Miller and Bryan with their damn chickens. They need to fix the fence so that the chickens stop wandering into our yard.”

_They had a yard._

“Can’t you do that tomorrow?” Murphy asked, pulling her a little closer. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“John,” Emori sighed. Murphy moved his hands to her neck, leaning in a little closer.

“Please?” he wheedled. Emori laughed, the sound enough to bring a wide smile to Murphy’s face.

“Fine,” she said. She pulled his head down and pressed a long kiss to his lips.

“Gross!”

Emori broke away from Murphy, laughing. She turned to Iko, who was standing in the doorway with a small wooden bowl of eggs and a frown.

“Iko, bring the eggs here,” she said. She turned back to Murphy. “Can you cook those while I get Iko dressed for the day?”

Murphy nodded dumbly, taking the bowl of eggs from the little girl. Emori disappeared with Iko and he was left alone in the kitchen, trying to figure out what was going on. His hands moved automatically, cracking the eggs over the pan on the stove. He grabbed a wooden spoon and began mixing the eggs together. While he cooked, he thought.

He couldn’t figure out where he was. Did he just have amnesia? The last thing he remembered was being in the basement in Polis, getting his ass kicked by a bald man with anger issues and a serious problem with mixing fact and fiction. How many years had gone by since then? Iko looked at least six, so it had been at least seven. Probably longer.

He glanced down at the eggs and quickly took them off the stove before they burned. Iko bounced back into the kitchen, chanting, “Eggs! Eggs! Eggs!” She attached herself to Murphy’s leg and he couldn’t help the laugh that spilled from his mouth. Emori followed not long behind, giving Murphy a kiss and stealing the pan of eggs out of his hand. She tasted the eggs on the spoon and grinned.

“Delicious,” she proclaimed. She grabbed three plates off the counter next to the sink and headed out of the kitchen. Murphy began to follow after her, but found himself dragging Iko along as she clung to his leg, giggling. He couldn’t help the grin that stretched his lips. He dragged her into the other room, where Emori was scraping eggs onto the plates. Iko shouted, “Daddy, faster!” and Emori looked up, laughing at the two of them.

“Iko, let go of your daddy’s leg,” Emori said. “Come sit and eat your breakfast.”

Iko let go of Murphy’s leg and hopped into one of the mismatched chairs at the table, eagerly grabbing a fork. Emori finished scraping the last of the eggs onto one of the plates and set the empty pan down on the table. Murphy took a seat between Emori and Iko, picking up his fork and hesitantly eating a bite of the eggs. He’d never tasted eggs before (or at least he didn’t think he had – he couldn’t figure out if it was a dream or not). They were surprisingly soft and tasted different from anything he’d had before. He tried to act as if eating eggs was something he did on a normal basis, not wanting to answer any awkward questions from Emori.

After breakfast, Murphy got dressed and followed Emori out of the little cabin. He took a moment to look around, playing it off like he was stretching out his back. Their cabin was on the outskirts of Arkadia, the large shadow of the Ark a good distance away. A few cabins were spaced around a central courtyard with a fire pit in the center. The walls around Arkadia were gone. Murphy wondered how that had managed to happen.

“Daddy,” Iko said, tugging on his sleeve. “I want a piggy back ride.”

Murphy looked down at her. She stuck out her bottom lip and widened her eyes. After a momentary stare-down (during which he realized that she had the same gold flecks in her eyes as her mother), he sighed overdramatically and said, “I suppose so.”

She grinned and he bent down, allowing her to clamber onto his back. She held on expertly, to the point that he had a hand free to slip into one of Emori’s. They started walking together towards the large shadow of the Ark. Iko sang nonsense in Murphy’s ear and a gentle breeze ruffled his hair. Emori seemed content to walk in silence while Murphy thought about the life they had. They had a _daughter_. It hit him in that moment, walking with Emori’s hand in his with Iko on his back. The two of them had a daughter. They’d built a life together. A permanent life.

He was still reeling from that realization, and the added realization that he _desperately_ hoped that this wasn’t a dream, when they reached the market. It was built in the shadow of the Ark, stalls of flowers and clothing and other goods with merchants talking to people walking by. Iko pointed out some flowers that she liked and Emori traded one of the buttons in her pocket for a little purple flower that Murphy carefully tucked behind Iko’s ear.

“There it is,” Emori said, pointing at a booth up ahead that was filled with sketches and a few paintings. Iko jumped up and down, tugging Murphy’s hand as she ran towards the stall. He laughed, jogging to keep up with her. A head of cropped blonde hair popped up from behind the table of the stall. Murphy slowed a little at the sight of Clarke. Her eyes flicked between him and Emori, a hesitant smile on her lips.

“Murphy?”

“Hey,” Murphy said. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, it has,” Clarke said, leaning on the table. “I heard you were living out by Miller and Bryan. How’s the peaceful life treating you?”

“Are you Clarke?” Iko cut in. Murphy stifled a laugh. Clarke blinked, looking down at the little girl. Her eyes widened and she looked up at Murphy, then Emori.

“Yes, this is Clarke,” Murphy said. “Clarke…. This is Iko.”

“Hi,” Clarke said, seemingly shocked by the sight of the little girl. Iko flashed a huge smile.

“Uncle Miller told me all about you,” she said. “Did you really defeat the Mountain Men all by yourself?”

“I never get any credit,” another voice grumbled. Murphy automatically took a step back at the sound of Bellamy’s voice. The last time he remembered seeing Bellamy was not fun. But the other man just nodded in acknowledgement of Murphy and pressed a kiss to the side of Clarke’s head, grabbing something off one of the shelves in the back of the stall. Murphy jolted at the sight of the soulmark on Bellamy’s wrist, realizing that it matched the one on Clarke’s. Iko tilted her head to one side.

“Who are you?” she demanded. Murphy was beginning to realize that Iko was a lot like her mother in some ways – she didn’t like to beat around the bush. Bellamy stared at the little girl, then glanced up at Murphy.

“Is she yours?” he asked. Iko stomped her foot.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she whined. Bellamy’s lips cracked into a smile.

“I’m Bellamy,” he said, stepping out of the stall and crouching down to shake Iko’s hand. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Iko,” Iko said. “I like you.”

Bellamy laughed at that and Murphy couldn’t help but marvel at the strange life he’d found himself in. Bellamy and Clarke were together? Bellamy didn’t want to strangle him on sight? What the hell was going on?

Emori slipped her hand into his.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her mouth twisted into a frown. “You look worried about something.”

Murphy smiled quickly to cover up his thoughts.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just thinking about the past.”

Emori shook her head, smiling a little.

“I thought we both agreed that was a bad idea,” she said. Murphy shrugged, his smile returning. In front of them, Iko was showing Bellamy the flower that Emori got her earlier.

“And Daddy put it in my hair,” she said, twirling it between her fingers. “And Mommy said she’d braid it in on the way home.”

Bellamy looked up, his eyes flicking between Murphy and Emori. Murphy swallowed the urge to put himself in front of Emori and said, “We should start heading back. It’s a bit of a walk to get home.”

 _Home_.

He and Emori had built a home.

“I want one of Clarke’s pictures,” Iko said. “So we can put it on the wall.”

Murphy looked up at Clarke, who was smiling at the little girl.

“Let me see what I have,” she said. She shuffled around a few of the drawings until she found one of a meadow of flowers that Iko decided she liked. Murphy reached into his pockets for something to trade with, but was stopped by Clarke.

“It’s for an old friend,” she said. “This one’s on me.”

Iko took the rolled-up drawing gleefully, whirling around to show it to Emori. Murphy could only stare at Clarke, his mind spinning.

 _And old friend_.

Things certainly had changed since he last remembered.

Iko rode on Emori’s back on the way back to their cabin, chattering about the stories that Miller had told her about Clarke.

“But he never talked about Bellamy,” she frowned. “I’ll have to ask him.”

Murphy snorted, thinking Miller was probably just getting Bellamy back for one thing or another.

When night fell, the few people that lived around Murphy and Emori’s cabin gathered around the fire pit to roast animals over the spit for dinner and chatter with each other. Iko sprinted to a man Murphy recognized as Miller, a little older and with a full beard, and showed him the picture she’d gotten from Clarke. Emori laughed, sitting down next to him on the bench and resting her head on his shoulder.

“Miller won’t be excited about me skipping out on helping him to take Iko to the market,” she said. “But I bet Iko will soften him up a little.”

Murphy hummed his assent, his arm settling around Emori’s shoulders and playing with the ends of her hair. He grabbed her left hand in his, running his thumb over the uneven knuckles. He liked that she wasn’t hiding it, and that nobody said a word.

“You’ve been quiet all day,” Emori said. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Murphy said, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “Just remembering how lucky I am.”

Emori laughed.

“Lucky we are, John.”

“Daddy, look!” Iko hauled a chicken over to them, grinning wide enough to reveal a missing tooth. “Uncle Miller says I can keep her!”

“No,” Murphy and Emori said in unison. Iko pouted at Murphy again, but this time he won. She put the chicken down and it ran towards a hysterically laughing Miller. Murphy squinted at Miller, hoping that looks could kill. They couldn’t, unfortunately.

“Okay,” Murphy said, after the fire began to die out and Iko was asleep on his lap. “Come on. Let’s get to bed.”

Emori lifted her head from his shoulder sleepily, rousing Iko and carrying her back to the cabin. Murphy followed, watching as Emori carefully tucked Iko into bed. She shut the door and tucked herself into Murphy’s side, yawning into his collarbone.

“I’ll help Miller with his fence tomorrow,” Murphy said, half-carrying her to bed. “Don’t want Iko getting any ideas about those chickens.”

Emori laughed tiredly, crawling into bed almost immediately. Murphy laughed, stripping off his shirt and crawling into bed next to her. She immediately snuggled into him, her hair falling softly over her face. Murphy wrapped his arms around her, breathing in the smell of her. He fell asleep with a peaceful smile, thinking about how damn lucky he was to have found something he never wanted to let go of.

 

* * *

 

“ – stealing from people on their way to the Polis market.”

Murphy blinked, slowly becoming aware of the gag in his mouth and his bound hands. Clarke’s face came into focus, her hands on his face.

“Hey, you’re okay.”

_Where’s Emori?_

Clarke went to untie the gag around Murphy’s mouth and he heard Titus speak again. It all came rushing back. The capture in the woods. The days of torture under Polis. _It had all been a dream._  

_Cosmic joke._

He turned to see Titus holding a gun. Clarke stood, saying something more to Titus. All he could do was stare at the gun, wondering what it would feel like to be shot. For a bullet to rip through his flesh, revealing muscles and blood beneath.

Would Emori ever know what had happened to him?

Titus wanted Clarke dead. Why was anybody’s guess, or at least it was until the young woman walked in at the wrong moment and found herself with a bullet in her gut. That was when Murphy realized that he wasn’t the only one to fall in love since getting to the ground. And on top of that, Clarke had fallen in love with the grounder Commander. Talk about unlucky.

Still, as Murphy watched her sob over Lexa’s body, shaking fingers gently closing eyelids, he couldn’t help but feel pity for Clarke. She didn’t deserve this, this sudden and violent loss of someone she loved.

Titus insisted that he must finish the ritual, whatever that was. Murphy set his hand on Clarke’s arm, murmuring, “Come on, we should go,” but Clarke shook him off, shaking her head as tears poured down her cheeks. He stepped back, searching for an escape. Whatever he had been thrown into, it was not good. He needed to get out, back to the forest. He needed to find Emori and get as far away from Polis and Arkadia and the fucking clans and their bullshit and he needed to do it as soon as possible.

 _Cosmic joke_.

Titus carried Lexa out of the room and the doors shut behind him, trapping Murphy and Clarke inside. Murphy slammed his fists against the doors, desperation building in his chest. He had to get out of Polis. He had to get back to the forest.

“There’s no point,” Clarke said, her voice hollow. Murphy turned around to see her standing over the bed, staring at the black blood splattered across the furs.

“I can’t stay here,” Murphy said. “Do you realize what your bald friend was doing to me in the basement? Torturing me. For information about you, mostly. So it would be safe to say that I’m not exactly on good terms with him. The sooner I get the hell out of this godforsaken city, the better.”

“You were stealing from people in the forest,” Clarke said, turning to face him. Tear tracks cut through the grime on her face and her shaking hands were still covered in blood. “Why?”

Murphy shrugged, thinking to the first few nights of hunger in the cave. Emori had curled up next to him for warmth, her stomach growling loudly.

“We all do what we have to in order to survive,” he said.

“You could have come back to Arkadia.”

Murphy snorted at that, the bitterness in his chest pushing its way to the surface again.

“I’m pretty sure that more than a few people in Arkadia would punch me in the face repeatedly if I went back, Bellamy being one of them. I’m not a masochist.”

“So what,” Clarke said, her voice hardening and becoming sharp. “You’ve been living it up in the woods, ignoring your people and stealing from others?”

“In case you didn’t notice, Clarke,” Murphy said. “ _My_ people don’t give two shits about me.”

Clarke turned away from him, walking over to the window. Murphy let the frustration seep away. Clarke was hurting. She needed space.

He flopped down on the bed, making sure to stay away from the black bloodstain, and stared at the ceiling. The bed was much softer than the simple furs he and Emori had back at the cave. It reminded him of the bed from his dream. He shut his eyes, muttering a curse under his breath. He wanted to go back to the dream. Reality sucked.

He fell asleep eventually, his dreams muddled and confused and full of Emori, waking up to daylight and the sound of Clarke slamming her hands against the door and screaming in Grounder. He left her alone, getting up and sitting in the corner and counting regrets.

_I didn’t tell Emori I loved her before I was captured._

_I didn’t just go with her to Arkadia._

_I woke up._

Night had fallen when he heard the horns. He was lying on his back in the bed, again far from the bloodstain, and making a list of things to do when he got back to the cave. Most of them involved holding onto Emori for at least an hour. After that was packing up and heading far, far away. Clarke spoke, her voice hollow.

“The conclave must be starting.”

“Cool,” Murphy said. “Can you see anything?”

Clarke gave him a vaguely disgusted look. He tried to play it off with a smirk despite his mind being somewhere else.

“What, watching Grounders fight to the death over who gets an AI built into their brain, that doesn’t sound fun to you?”

Clarke turned away, returning to the door to bang on it.

“Clarke,” Murphy said. His own knuckles were bruised from punching the door repeatedly out of frustration. “Look, I’m sorry. I know how much she meant to you.”

He didn’t know, really, but he could figure out by the way she knelt next to the bloodstain, sobbing, for a good three hours, that she was completely shattered.

The door unlocked and Murphy’s head snapped towards it. Titus walked in and hate twisted around Murphy’s gut.

“What, you come here to finish the job?”

Titus tossed a long cloak at Murphy and another at Clarke, saying, “I’m here to fulfill my vow to Lexa. Put these on.”

Murphy immediately pulled it on, heading for the door. It was a couple of hours to the cave, but once he made it past Polis’s boundaries, he was sprinting the rest of the way. He realized that Clarke wasn’t behind him and turned to see her standing there with the cloak in her hands.

“Look,” he said, taking a step in her direction. “The door we’ve been banging on for the last twenty-four hours is open. Let’s use it.”

Clarke turned away from him and flung the cloak at Titus, who just flinched when it hit him. She demanded to know how he was still free. Titus explained that he was the only Flamekeeper, whatever the hell that meant.

“If you go now, you can slip in with the crowds arriving for tomorrow’s conclave.”

Murphy jumped at that.

“You heard the man, let’s–”

“I need to see Aden first.”

Damn Clarke and her stupid stubbornness. Murphy wanted to get the hell out of Polis, but she seemed dead set on staying for some stupid reason or another. She wanted to know where the nightbloods were having the purification ritual, despite Murphy hissing, “That sounds kind of private, Clarke.”

And, of course, he got dragged along.

 _Cosmic joke_.

They were just kids. Murphy stared at the small group. The youngest looked no older than eight. When she turned her head, he realized she looked a lot like Iko from his dream. He swallowed hard and turned away. Clarke walked up to Aden, asking if he would still protect her people. He assured her that Lexa made them all promise to protect Skaikru. Murphy was ready to step forward and say, “Great, let’s go,” but before he could, another pair of people walked into the room. One of them tackled Clarke with a knife, and Murphy couldn’t help but think, “We should have left Polis when we had the chance.”

Then she promised to kill all of Skaikru.

_Great. Another person that wants me dead. Add her to the list._

_Cosmic joke_.

Titus disappeared down to his basement shrine. Clarke, of course, wanted to follow, despite Murphy suggesting (reasonably) that they leave as soon as possible. They walked in and Murphy recoiled a little from the memories. There were still open wounds on his face from his time there.

“You do not belong here,” Titus said, standing angrily.

“Really?” Murphy said sarcastically. “Then why is my blood decorating your floor?”

“There’s nothing left for you in Polis, why haven’t you gone?” Titus said. Murphy snorted.

“Yeah, that’s what I’d like to know,” he muttered. Clarke started asking questions about Ontari and the flame and the conclave. Titus took the chip off of some kind of stand. Clarke fell silent, staring at it.

“Is she really in there?” she asked softly. Titus turned to her.

“Of course she is.”

Murphy stepped closer to Clarke, his mind racing.

“Look, why does it matter who wins?” he said.  “If your girlfriend really is in there, then we have nothing to worry about. Let’s get out of here while we _can_.”

“It matters,” Titus said. He went on to explain something about Ontari that sounded very pessimistic to Murphy. They were interrupted by a horn. Murphy frowned.

“What’s that?”

Panic overtook Titus’s expression.

“The victory horn.”

Clarke ran after him, and after a moment of deliberating over whether or not to make a break for it by himself, Murphy followed. As he jogged after Clarke up the stairs, he went through all the times he’d wanted to strangle her that day. There were many.

They reached the throne room and were immediately pulled aside by the man Murphy recognized as the Ice Nation king, the one that had shown up with crazy bitch Ontari. Speaking of her, she was sitting on the Commander’s throne, spattered in black blood.

Murphy threw up in his mouth a little when she pulled out the first head.

“Clarke, I think we should go,” he whispered fiercely.

“I win.”

_Cosmic joke._

The king pulled them out of the room and explained that he would show them to a tunnel that would get them out of the city safely. Murphy was ecstatic, though he hid it well, and followed the king, Roan, out of the tower. Clarke insisted that they needed to speak to Titus.

 _When will she realize that he can’t help us anymore? We_ need _to get the hell out of Polis before crazy ice princess kills us._

“The tunnel’s through here,” Roan said. Murphy’s heart leapt.

 _Emori_.

“Great, thanks,” he said, heading for it. He turned and realized that Clarke was still standing there, staring at the tower. He sighed.

“We aren’t leaving, are we?”

“Not without the flame.”

“We’re gonna die,” he muttered to himself. Clarke glared at him, heading back for the tower. He glanced one last time at the tunnel, then followed after her. She slipped quietly through the streets, Murphy following with a list of all the ways Ontari could kill them running through his head. Beheading was at the top.

“We’re almost there,” Clarke whispered.

“Have I mentioned that I hate this idea?”

“We can’t let Ontari get the flame.”

She left him at the top of the stairs, saying, “He keeps it in the pod. Just wait here. I’ll be quick.”

He stood there, tapping his foot and wishing he was in the cave with Emori. Things were much simpler there. No stupid Clarke, no stupid Grounder religion and politics, no goddamn nightbloods trying to kill him –

A hand slammed into his chest before he realized what was coming. Ontari shouted something in Grounder. When he didn’t know how to respond, she planted one foot on his chest and shoved him down the stairs. He landed painfully at the bottom, every part of his body aching.

“She’s here,” he groaned. He stumbled to his feet, seeing a flash of blonde hair as Clarke hid behind the pod. He walked in, trying to act like he belonged there. Ontari walked in, still covered in black blood. She gave Murphy a disdainful look and said to Titus, “How dare you bring Skaikru into the Order of the Flame?”

“It’s what Lexa wanted.”

“Lexa’s not Commander anymore.” Ontari smirked. “Thanks to you. Let’s get this over with.”

Murphy could see the glint of speed-of-light improvisation in Titus’s eyes. Titus finally said, “You must be cleansed before you ascend.” He turned to Murphy. “Take her to the Commander’s chambers. Perform the ritual.”

_Cosmic joke._

“Are you sure I’m ready for that?” Murphy asked, panic rising in his chest. He had to get away from Ontari, not spend more time in an enclosed space _alone_ with her. She whipped around, her sword hovering an inch away from his throat, and barked something in Grounder. He glanced down at the blade, unimpressed. He’d had too many at his throat to be afraid of them anymore.

She removed the sword after a second and he was forced to lead her up the tower to the Commander’s chambers. He stood by the window as she undressed and climbed into the bath, washing the blood and grime off.

“How much longer?” she demanded. Murphy pressed his lips together.

“Purification is a process,” he replied.

“You’re not afraid of me.”

He almost laughed at that, glancing over his shoulder at her.

“I don’t scare easily. Truth is, I think what you did was smart. A little crazy, maybe, but…” He trailed off, thinking of the man thumping to the ground, blood dripping from his neck. Of Emori, terrified eyes and blood splattered across her face. “We all do what we have to to survive.”

Ontari cocked her head.

“You know I intend to wipe out your people, right?” she said. Murphy shrugged.

_Good thing I’m an outsider._

“Sucks for them.”

A knock sounded at the door. Ontari got out of the bath and Murphy averted his eyes, waiting for her to put on a robe. A moment later, the door burst open and Roan barged in with Titus.

“What is this?” Ontari demanded. Murphy’s eyes flicked between Titus and Roan.

“The Flamekeeper claims he lost the flame,” Roan said.

_Shit._

Then Roan’s eyes traveled to Murphy. At that point, Murphy resigned himself to his fate. He was good and truly fucked.

“You.” Roan advanced on Murphy. “Where’s Wanheda?”

“How would I know?” Murphy demanded. Roan shoved him against the wall, pushing his knife against Murphy’s throat so hard Murphy swore he could already taste his own blood.

“Don’t play games with me,” Roan hissed. “I know she stole it.”

“She didn’t steal it.”

_Fucking Titus._

“I gave it to her.”

Roan let go of Murphy and advanced on Titus. Soon the knife was at the Flamekeeper’s throat. Murphy’s chest constricted with fear. With Clarke gone, Titus was the only person that could or would help him get out of the city.

“You can’t kill him,” he said. “He’s the only one that can perform the ritual.”

“This abomination,” Titus said softly, glaring at Ontari for a second before looking back into Roan’s eyes. “Will never ascend.”

“Kill him,” Ontari hissed.

“He’s right,” Roan said. “We need him.”

Relief began to flow through Murphy’s chest.

Titus shoved Roan’s arm to the side, dragging the knife across his own throat. Murphy’s eyes widened as blood spilled from Titus’s throat. He turned to Ontari, saying, “For Lexa,” before collapsing into the bathtub.

_Cosmic joke._

“Announce my ascension,” Ontari said.

“You don’t have the flame.”

“No one knows that.”

“He does.”

Murphy swallowed hard.

“He happens to like his head,” he said, looking between the two Ice Nation with panic forming a lump in his throat. Ontari ordered Roan to light the pyre and burn Lexa, announcing that the people had a new commander. Murphy was then dragged out of the room, to the Commander’s chambers, where a chain was put around his neck.

_Cosmic joke._

He spent days manipulating and trying to escape, trying to stay alive. He played the part of loyal yes-man, Flamekeeper-in-training. He convinced Ontari that he was on her side.

One night she put him back in the chains and pulled him towards the bed.

“Look, there’s someone else,” he said, holding out his wrist to show her the mark. Ontari didn’t seem to care and Murphy panicked, even as he kept a calm façade.

“Would she kill you if you ever did anything to upset her?”

The chain around his neck tugged and Murphy swallowed hard, finally going with it.

It was one of the worse nights.

It went on, the pretending and the lying and the manipulation. Murphy kept searching for a way out, a way to escape, but Ontari rarely let him out of her sight.

They were walking through the market when an achingly familiar voice called out, “Hey, stranger.”

He turned to see Emori standing at a grill, a smile stretching her tattoo.

“Care for a bite?”

All the breath left his body in one second and it was all he could do to not run to her and crush her to his chest. The days of miserable hoping and dreaming and believing that he would never see her again faded away as he smiled wider than he had in weeks.

“Emori? What are you doing here?”

She glanced down at her grill with a grin.

“Cooking rats.”

He quirked one eyebrow and she smirked.

“The old vendor was brutally attacked on the road. It’s dangerous out there.”

Pride swelled in Murphy’s chest.

“Yeah, clearly it is.”

Her smile widened.

“I’ve been looking for you ever since you were taken.”

His smile slowly faded as the impact of her words hit. She’d been looking for him. _She’d been looking for him._ She cared about him enough to look for him.

“And then I heard rumors of the new Heda’s handsome Skaikru Flamekeeper. I knew it had to be you. She’s one hell of a mark, John. I want in.”

Murphy’s smile faded further. He wasn’t trying to rob Ontari, he was trying not to die. Of course, Emori wouldn’t know that.

She suddenly started speaking Grounder, gesturing at the rat on her grill. Murphy glanced over his shoulder and saw Ontari coming closer. He quickly grabbed some meat off the grill and shoved it in his mouth, saying to Ontari, “Best rat I’ve ever had. Delicious.”

Ontari stared at him in disgust for a second before saying, “Do not fall behind again.” The second her back was turned, Murphy spit out the rat. It was truly disgusting. He turned back to Emori and gave her instructions to the Flamekeeper’s shrine.

“I’ll get away as soon as I can,” he said. She grinned at him and he wished he could kiss her, wished he could take her in his arms and never let go, but instead he followed after Ontari.

He managed to escape not long after their trip to the market, heading down to the alley to wait. He’d been standing there for ten minutes when he began to think that maybe Emori wasn’t coming. Maybe his captivity-driven madness had created a pleasant hallucination for him to believe in. Maybe she really had been there and had decided that it wasn’t worth going to see him. Maybe –

Small arms wrapped around his waist and Emori said in his ear, “Ready to prove how much you missed me?”

Murphy laughed in relief, pulling her towards the shrine. He couldn’t keep his hands off of her, pulling her close to him and shutting the door with his foot as he pressed kisses all over her face. She laughed, kissing his eyelids before her gaze strayed to the room around them. Her eyes widened and she let go of him, wandering around the room. Murphy shut the door more securely, checking that nobody would interrupt them. He pulled the deadbolt across.

“I recognize some of this tech,” Emori said, her voice distant. Murphy barely noticed, more focused on how the candlelight gave her skin a soft glow.

“Let me guess,” he said. “The Flamekeeper was one of your customers?”

Emori said nothing to that, her gaze attached to the mural on the wall.

“Who is this?” she asked softly.

“They call her Becca Pramheda,” Murphy said, watching Emori’s face. “She was the first Commander.”

“Becca,” Emori repeated.

“Come on, don’t tell me you actually believe in this religious crap,” Murphy said. Emori just smiled and moved on, her eyes wide with a child-like fascination as she took in all of the tech in the room. Murphy followed after her, his eyes fixed on her eyes. The little gold flecks glinted in the candlelight. While she was peering into the pod, he wrapped his arms around her from behind and began to kiss up her neck. She leaned her head back onto his shoulder, smiling lightly. He moved up along the side of her head as she said, “Are you sure no one will come in?”

Murphy grinned, pressing a final kiss to the top of her head.

“Does it seem like I’m sure?”

She whirled around in his arms, giggling in a way that made his heart skip a beat. He leaned down and kissed her softly, slowly, until she grabbed his collar and deepened it. He shrugged off his long jacket, one of his hands sliding into her hair. She reached for his belt, but he grabbed her hands, pinning them to the pod behind her. He wanted to go slow. He wanted to make the moments he had with her last as long as they could.

He nearly cried when her glove came off and he saw the twin to his soulmark on her wrist. He kissed it for a full five seconds before pressing her left hand to his chest and looking her in the eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry that I was taken, I’m sorry that I’ve been gone.”

“I’m sorry it took so long for me to find you,” Emori said, reaching up with her right hand to brush away the few tears that made their way out of his eyes. She pulled his face down to kiss his lips again, moving to kiss away the tears. Murphy shut his eyes, burying his head in her collarbone and breathing in.

He’d missed her so much.

He was pulling on his jacket, watching her redo the unnecessarily complicated belt she wore, when he said, “Emori, you have to leave Polis.”

She groaned in annoyance, rolling her eyes.

“Hey,” Murphy said, grabbing her now-gloved left hand. “It’s not safe for you here.”

She yanked her hand out of his.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Yes, we’re all aware of that,” Murphy muttered under his breath as she walked away. She looked around the room again, chuckling a little.

“How the hell did you pull this off?” she asked, looking at him with unbridled amazement. Murphy shrugged.

“You know me, just doing what I can to stay alive, right?”

She smiled at that.

“You’re cute when you’re modest.”

He laughed a little, but sobered.

“I’m being serious. Ontari, she’s crazy… And that’s coming from me. The only reason I’m still breathing–” Emori’s eyes widened a little “–Is she thinks I know how to make her the Commander.”

“I thought she was the Commander.”

“Not technically, no,” Murphy said, shaking his head. Emori seemed intrigued by this response. “To be the Commander, you have to shove a computer chip into your brain. These fools think it’s reincarnation.”

Emori looked confused.

“Why would she think you could do this?”

“Because I saw it come out of the last Commander.” He saw more questions bubbling to her lips and cut them off with a “Don’t ask.” Emori frowned a little.

“So what do you do for her now?”

_Cosmic joke._

Murphy opened his mouth, dropping his gaze to Emori’s collarbone as he tried to think of a response. How was he supposed to tell Emori, his _soulmate_ , exactly what Ontari kept him around for?

“She’s…. taken a liking to me,” he finally said, avoiding meeting Emori’s gaze. Emori took a minute to respond and he chanced a glance up at her, seeing her eyes move to the markings on his neck from the chain to his chest. She finally sighed, looking into his eyes with a sad smile.

“Who can blame her?” she said. Murphy felt a flood of relief crashing through his chest and a small smile began to stretch his cheeks.

The moment was ruined by banging on the door.

“Go,” Murphy said to Emori, gesturing towards the pod. She nodded, hurrying to hide behind him. He shouted at the door, “What?”

The door was edged open a little.

“Heda requires your presence, Flamekeeper.”

“Of course she does,” Murphy muttered, the bitterness in his chest pulsing a little. “Thank you.”

The door was pulled shut again. Emori walked out from behind the pod, picking up his long coat and brushing off the dirt. She tossed it at him.

“So important.”

Murphy caught the coat, recognizing the slight bitterness in Emori’s eyes. He didn’t want to leave her, but Ontari hated to be kept waiting and he liked his head on his shoulders.

“I have to go,” he said softly. He set one hand on her neck, pulling her into him for a moment and then kissing her cheek. “Stay here. You’ll be safe.”

He pulled the coat on and left, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Ontari was waiting in the throne room. She gestured for Murphy to take his place beside her, which he did. She then motioned for the guards to let people in. Murphy guessed that they were telling her about their problems and she offered some kind of solution. All of the proceedings were conducted entirely in Grounder, so he couldn’t confirm that, but it was his best guess.

A hooded figure came in and knelt before Ontari. She spat something in Grounder and the figure replied in a chillingly familiar voice, “Only to give you what you need.”

_Jaha._

_Cosmic joke._

“You son of a bitch,” Murphy said, stepping forward. Jaha stood up, throwing off his hood.

“Hello, John,” he said. “You’ve done well for yourself, I see.”

“Who is this?” Ontari demanded. Fear took root in Murphy’s chest. Jaha was there to convert Ontari to his City of Light cult, and that would most likely not end well for Murphy. He thought to Emori, waiting in the basement for him. He couldn’t die.

“Your Flamekeeper and I are old friends,” Jaha said. Murphy snorted, taking a step forward.

“Friends,” he said. He walked up to Jaha. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, Jaha, but if I were you, I would leave while you still can.”

Jaha seemed amused by Murphy’s warning and ignored him, addressing Ontari.

“You don’t have to be a false Commander.”

_Cosmic joke._

Murphy was fucked. How did Jaha know that Ontari wasn’t the real Commander? Ontari stood angrily, shouting something in Grounder that cleared the room. Murphy tried to stay calm.

“How do you know that?” he asked Jaha. Jaha smiled like Murphy was a little slow.

“You told me.”

Confusion and fear reigned in Murphy’s mind, but he kept it cool. He had to think his way out of it, think his way back to that basement and out of Polis.

“He’s lying,” he said to Ontari. “Obviously you should kill him for insulting you.”

“Just as you told me,” Jaha continued. “That you would be unable to perform the ascension ritual even if you had the flame.”

Murphy’s heart stopped. The only other person he’d told that to was…. Emori.

The doors were flung open and Murphy wanted to melt through the floor when Emori walked into the throne room, coming to stand next to Jaha. Murphy stared at her, fear and hurt washing away all the barriers, all the masks that he’d built.

“It was you?” he asked, his voice cracking. Emori didn’t say anything. Anger began to take root. “You took the chip.”

“This is the girl from the market,” Ontari said, stepping in. Murphy internally cursed every damn star in the sky, searching Emori’s face for any trace of the girl he remembered. The girl he’d fallen in love with. The girl that had a mark on her wrist that matched his. “You acted as if you didn’t know her.”

Emori stepped in front of Ontari.

“I’m his lover,” she said. Murphy stared at Jaha, trying to think his way out. _I have to survive._

“Ontari, listen to me,” he said, his mind scrambling for a solution. “You can’t trust these people.”

“It seems,” Ontari said, drawing her sword. “That the only person I can’t trust is you.” She pointed the sword at the hollow of his throat. “I told you what would happen if you betrayed me!”

Tears burned behind Murphy’s eyes as he stared at Emori’s impassive expression. The girl that had been ready to take on five armed-to-the-teeth Polis guards with nothing but a short hunting knife and her fists for him. She stared right back at him, the ghost of a smile hovering on her face. The chipped expression. She just stood there, staring at him with a sword to his throat and did nothing.

“You kill him,” Jaha said. “And I won’t help you.”

“Why?” Ontari demanded.

“He’s a fraud,” Jaha said. “But he does have knowledge that could be useful to all of us. Trust me.”

Ontari clearly didn’t like it, but she lowered her sword. Murphy tried to plead with her, tried to convince her that she couldn’t trust Jaha, but guards hauled him out. He caught Emori’s impassive gaze and for a second, he thought he saw a flicker of something else. The doors slammed shut before he could shout any more. He was dragged down to a dungeon somewhere under the city and put in chains. Again.

_Cosmic joke._

At first, he cried. He sat there, trying to pry the shackles off while tears ran down his face and his brain scrambled to explain why Emori would have taken the chip. When had she been chipped? Was it before or after she came to Polis? It must have been before. Emori wouldn’t come into Polis with her hand, not for him. She was smarter than that.

So why had she taken it?

He stopped trying to pry the shackles off after a little while, sliding the one on his left wrist down a little to stare at the little round mark.

It wasn’t enough.

Nothing he ever did was ever enough. He tried to be there for his mom after his dad was floated. She died anyways. He tried to be loyal to Bellamy, to play along. Fat lot of good that did him. He tried to stop Finn from massacring that village. Raven tried to hand him over to the grounders anyways.

And now, the one thing that he thought could be enough, could _finally_ be enough to make someone stay, couldn’t. The mark on his wrist wasn’t enough.

He was sitting there, staring at the mark, when Pike was dragged in. He was chained to the bars in the back of the room, shouting at the men that had dragged him in. Murphy looked back at the ground, internally wondering why Pike would even bother. He was a smart guy. He had to know there was no point in trying to fight the chip.

 _Not even a soulmate is enough_.

“Who’s ready to take the key?”

Murphy fixed his gaze on a spot on the ground. He wouldn’t take the damn chip if they put a gun to his head. The guard waited, but when nobody said anything, he left. Behind Murphy, Pike kept struggling against the shackles. Murphy chuckled bitterly to himself, shaking his head.

“What are the odds?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder. Pike squinted at him.

“John Murphy?”

 _“What does he do with the second chance his father_ gave his life _to buy for him?”_

Murphy gave a sarcastic little wave.

“Told you I’d survive.”

_“Wastes it.”_

Pike's eyes widened a little, then another voice interrupted.

“You should have killed me on that battlefield.”

Murphy glanced over and saw a black woman with a facial tattoo that vaguely reminded him of Emori’s standing by the wall. He didn’t recognize her, but Pike clearly did.

“I won’t make the same mistake.”

She yanked the ring that she was shackled to out of the wall, revealing a sharp spike. Murphy shifted, flinching away from the weapon a little, but the woman wasn’t going for him. She walked over to Pike, spike in hand.

“You’ll take 300 cuts by my hand,” she said. She began to drag the spike along Pike’s skin, leaving deep gashes. Murphy turned away after a minute, trying to block out Pike’s groans.

_“No one is coming to help you!”_

It went on for hours. Murphy kept thinking of Pike’s hands around his throat, pinning him to a table and squeezing the life out of him slowly.

“You can’t break me, Grounder,” Pike spat. The woman, Indra (according to the man sitting next to Murphy), responded by slashing him with the spike again.

“Maybe if you want her to stop, you should try shutting up,” Murphy said. Indra continued her vengeance. Murphy flinched at the sound of flesh tearing again and shot to his feet, shouting, “What is wrong with you people?”

They all stared at him in that broken way, that said they’d given up hope.

“He’s strong,” Murphy said. “We need him if we’re ever going to fight our way out of here!”

Indra stared at Pike, her chest heaving.

“Jaha’s got an army of chipped soldiers,” Murphy continued. “They don’t feel any pain. That means they’re not going to stop until all of us join them or die.”

“Don’t waste your breath,” Pike said. Murphy wanted to fling another spike at him, but refrained. Indra raised her spike again to deliver a killing blow, but was stopped by one of the women in the corner. She said something in Grounder that made Indra hesitate.

“Ask yourself this,” Murphy said. “Do you want revenge, or do you want your people to live?”

Indra lowered the spike, glaring at Murphy.

“I’ll get my revenge,” she said. She turned away from Pike. “Just not today.” She returned to where she’d been earlier, shoving the spike back into the wall. Pike started to smile at Murphy.

 _“Say something._ Do _something.”_

“Go float yourself,” Murphy said, before Pike could say something patronizing. “Everything I learned, I learned on the ground.”

He sat back down and went back to wallowing in self-pity.

 

* * *

 

“Running is not a plan.”

“No, it’s not,” Murphy said. “It’s surviving.”

“We regroup and come back stronger,” Pike said. “It’s a legitimate battle strategy.”

“I have a better strategy,” Indra said, still chipping away at the chains of another one of the prisoners. “Kill the leader, Jaha.”

Murphy snorted.

“Now that’s a plan I could get behind. Except he’s not the leader. He’s being controlled.” He trailed off a little, his mind filled with brown eyes with golden flecks. He dropped his gaze to the ground. “Just like everyone else.”

“Controlled? By what?”

“Nothing,” Murphy said. “Never mind. Forget it.”

Pike scowled.

“John, this isn’t the time to–”

He cut off quickly when the sound of the guards returning echoed down the corridor. Indra quickly returned to her spot, pushing her spike back into the wall. Murphy could feel Pike’s eyes burning into the back of his head. He ignored it, keeping his head down as the guards entered the cell. He traced the swirl of his soulmark with one finger.

_She would have never come to Polis if it wasn’t for the chip. She’s not that stupid. She wouldn’t take that risk. Not for me._

“None of us is ever going to take the key,” Pike said. One of the guards walked over to him. Murphy glanced up out of the corner of his eye and saw the man staring at the empty space to his left. His hands tightened into fists.

_The bitch in the red dress._

The guards began to check everyone’s chains. Murphy watched as they neared Indra. When the guard reached to check, she whipped the spike out of the wall and plunged it into the man’s head. Before he hit the ground, she pulled the knife from his belt and threw it at the second guard, hitting him squarely in the chest.

“Get the keys,” Murphy said, shooting to his feet. “She’ll send reinforcements.”

“You said Jaha was controlled,” Indra said, grabbing the front of Murphy’s shirt. “Tell me what you know!”

“The smart play here is going for the tunnels while we still can,” Murphy said, frustration rising in his chest. “Before we’re overrun by ALIE’s groupies!”

“If you have information that can help us–”

“We don’t have time for this,” Indra interrupted, ignoring Pike. She put the spike of her chains, still dripping blood, under Murphy’s chin. “Talk!”

Murphy debated internally for a second. If he told her, they would probably not make a break for the tunnels. If he didn’t, ALIE would continue to chip people.

The decision was made for him when Indra pressed the spike into his skin.

“Jaha’s backpack,” he said. Indra just stared at him.

“What about it?” Pike asked.

“It runs the AI,” Murphy said, trying to keep his chin up as far as possible. “If we can destroy it I think we can destroy her.”

“I know where it is,” Indra said, lowering the spike slowly. Murphy watched it move away until he was sure she wasn’t going to stab him with it. “I saw them move it into the temple before I was captured.”

_The temple._

_Cosmic joke._

Pike and Indra came to an understanding that they were going together to destroy the pack. ALIE would follow the people running while they went for the pack. Murphy wasn’t about to go with the group that was basically asking to get tortured into being chipped, so he stuck around to go with Indra and Pike.

“Your father would be proud,” Pike said. Murphy lowered his eyes to the ground.

_“I love you, John. I’m sorry that I wasn’t more careful.”_

_Murphy shook his head, clinging to his father’s arm as tears poured down his face._

_“They can’t float you,” he said. “They can’t.”_

_His father smiled sadly, placing one hand on his son’s face._

_“Remember that I love you,” he said. The guard behind him said, “It’s time.” Murphy’s father stood up and wrapped his arms around his sobbing wife, murmuring something indistinct to her that made her sob even harder. He crouched down again and pulled Murphy close to him._

_“I’m sorry,” he said again. Murphy tried to hold on, but a guard pulled him away. He kicked and screamed and begged, but it was to no avail. His mother took him into her arms and held on tight as the airlock opened and Murphy’s dad was gone forever._

“How do we do this?” Indra asked. Murphy shook off the memories.

“Carefully.”

While the other prisoners ran for the tunnels, Murphy, Indra, and Pike slipped towards the temple. Murphy was internally cursing ALIE, listing all the other places she could have put the damn backpack. The throne room. Literally anywhere else he wasn’t beaten and tortured. Anywhere.

As they neared the temple, they spotted guards. Murphy led them to a secret tunnel that led into the temple. There were guards inside, too. Pike raised his gun and shot them down, aiming at the last figure in the room. Panic spiked in Murphy’s chest as he recognized her.

“Nonononononono!” he cried, jumping in front of Pike’s gun and pushing it down desperately. “Not her!” He glanced over his shoulder at Emori, who was staring at the gun with eyes wide with fear. “Not her.”

Pike lowered the gun and Murphy straightened, looking around the room.

“They know we’re here. Bar the door.”

Indra moved to follow his instructions and Pike took the guns from the guards they’d shot. Emori stood in the center of the room, her eyes still wide as she watched them. Murphy looked at her and saw the deadness of ALIE in her eyes. He turned away before tears could make him irrational. The backpack was connected to the pod. He studied it.

“He’s powering the pod,” he said, spotting wires snaked across the floor into the pod.

“What about the secret passage?” Pike asked, pulling the gun off one of the guards. “She’ll know about that now. I’ll lock it up.”

Murphy turned to see hope flash across Emori’s face and smirked.

“No, don’t,” he said. Emori tipped her head, her expression quickly neutralizing. “She didn’t see us come in.”

He turned back to the pod, spotting Titus’s staff propping one half of it open.

“Thank you, Titus,” he muttered, grabbing the staff. He headed for the backpack.

_For Emori._

“That’s a nuclear fuel cell, John!”

He froze, the end of the staff hovering just above the glowing blue console. He turned to look at Emori.

“You’ll irradiate the entire city.”

He stared into her eyes, trying to figure out if she was lying. He couldn’t see anything but coldness.

“So how do we destroy it?” Indra asked. Murphy looked at Pike.

“Carefully,” Pike replied. Murphy nodded. He set aside the staff and grabbed the chair that he’d spent a good number of days tied to and set it in the center of the room. Emori watched him with that impassiveness that he was growing to hate (scratch that – he hated it). Pike started to carefully separate the fuel cell from the backpack to make a more-smashable, less-nuclear option.

“Have a seat,” Murphy said to Emori, gesturing at the chair. She tilted her head to one side, a sign that she was listening to ALIE. Murphy’s fingers curled into fists at his sides, his fingernails biting into his palms. Emori finally sat cautiously, watching Murphy. He took her left hand first, as gently as he could, and pulled the straps on the arm of the chair over her wrist. She didn’t move, just watched him. He felt sick to his stomach, avoiding her gaze as he finished the left hand and moved to the right.

“John,” she said softly. He squeezed his eyes shut and his hands shook as he pulled the strap tight. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Pike, hurry up,” he said, standing and turning his back to Emori. The inside of his left wrist burned. Pike continued to separate out the backpack. Murphy picked up Titus’s staff again.

“This door won’t last much longer,” Indra said.

“You’re going to have to pick up a gun, then,” Pike said, without looking up from the dissected backpack.

“You’re all going to die here, John,” Emori said. Murphy leaned on the staff a little, looking into her eyes and seeing that she genuinely believed that. There was no emotion. Just cold, hard, certain belief.

Pike continued to pull apart the backpack for another minute. Murphy felt Emori’s gaze burning into the back of his head and said, “Just tell me where to hit this thing.”

Pike held up his hand to tell Murphy to shut up and said, “Indra, the gun. Please.”

Murphy glanced over at the Grounder warrior and saw her hesitantly lifting a gun off the ground. The door shuddered again, the bar across it shooting a few splinters a couple of inches into the room.

“Okay, do it,” Pike said. “Just don’t hit the fuel cell.”

Murphy shifted his grip on the staff.

“John.”

He flinched at the way her voice wavered, but didn’t take his eyes off the blue console.

“Please, John, listen to me.”

He looked up, steeling himself against the voice that shook and cracked and pleaded.

“It’s not just ALIE in there, it’s all of us.”

That made him look at her and a piece of him shattered at the way her eyes shone with unshed tears. His grip on the staff loosened a little.

“Forget about the nuke. I’m telling you. Me. _Emori_.”

Murphy flinched again, looking at Pike.

“You’re making a mistake.”

Pike raised his eyebrows and Murphy tightened his grip on the staff again, raising it.

“The minds of everyone who has entered the City of Light are on that server.”

Murphy stared at it. It glowed with a soft blue light that seemed so innocent, so simple.

“If you destroy it, our minds will be gone forever.”

That began to slowly sink in and Murphy turned his head to look at Emori. His eyes burned at the look on her face.

“I’ll be _gone_ _forever_ , John.”

_My people saw me as a stain on the bloodline._

_Due north. Good luck, John._

_I guess you’re just going to have to keep an eye on me._

_Thank you for saving my life._

_You’re cute… for a thief._

_Hey, stranger. Care for a bite?_

_Ready to prove how much you missed me?_

_You’re cute when you’re modest._

_I’ll be_ gone.

He stared into her eyes, tears welling up in his own. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t destroy the City of Light if it meant losing her. She was all he had. He couldn’t lose that. He couldn’t do it.

“I–” He looked up at Pike. “I can’t.”

Pike looked at him like he was insane, then picked up his gun and smashed the console himself. Murphy hunched over like he’d been punched, leaning on the staff to keep him on his feet. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding in a sob. The sound of crunching plastic stopped after a second and Murphy looked up at Emori, who was sitting deadly still, her chin against her chest. He threw the staff to the side, falling to his knees in front of her and reaching up to place shaking hands on either side of her face. He heard Pike ask if it had worked, but ignored him, desperately praying that Emori was alive.

“Are you okay?” he asked, brushing hair out of her face. She let out a sigh of relief, her mouth turning into a smile. Relief coursed through Murphy’s chest and he almost sobbed.

Something slammed into the door again.

Emori’s smile turned into a sneer.

“You were too late,” she said quietly. Something inside Murphy broke, something that felt dangerously close to his heart. The tears burned behind his eyes and the smile dropped from his face. He looked down, pulling himself together. He couldn’t break, not in front of Emori while she was chipped.

“Let’s go.”

“We can’t let her see the tunnel,” he said, throwing the covering over Emori’s head. He followed Pike and Indra out and didn’t look back once.

 

* * *

 

They found a safe place to lay low for a while. Murphy spent the first hour they were there fighting tears and staring at the wall. He kept hearing, “I’ll be _gone forever_ , John,” over and over in his head. He wrapped his arms around his knees and clutched his left wrist, repeating to himself that she was still alive, she wasn’t gone.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been down there, but at some point, Bellamy and a few others were dragged past their hiding place. Murphy pressed himself against the wall. Both Indra and Pike shifted when they saw the group.

“Octavia,” Indra said.

“Bryan and Bellamy,” Pike said. Murphy sighed.

“We’re going to rescue them, aren’t we?” he asked.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Pike replied. Murphy sighed again and followed them after the group. They were taken to a corridor under the city. Murphy waited until Indra and Pike signaled him to step forward. They were hauling Bellamy up to take him somewhere. He smirked a little.

“If I were you, I’d hit the deck.”

A flashlight landed on him and he saw Bellamy squint at him, confused.

“Murphy?” The confusion cleared from Bellamy’s eyes after a second and he shouted, “Everyone hit the ground!”

Indra and Pike walked up next to Murphy once the friends were on the ground, firing their guns until the City of Light soldiers weren’t moving anymore. Murphy walked forward.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said.

“What are you doing here?” Bellamy asked. Murphy smiled a little at that.

“You’re welcome.”

He crouched in front of Miller, offering him a hand.

“Nathan,” he said with a smirk. “You’ve looked better.”

Miller managed a smile.

“You haven’t.”

Murphy couldn’t help but laugh at that, helping his old friend up. He grabbed one of the bags while the others talked.

“We need every fighter we can get,” Bellamy said. Murphy turned around, spreading his hands.

“Did you guys miss the part where it’s time to go?” he demanded. Bellamy turned to Murphy.

“We’re not leaving,” he said, in his leader voice. Murphy internally screamed, cursing Bellamy and Clarke and their refusals to leave Polis. Was he the only one that wanted to leave the goddamn city?

“We just saved your lives,” Murphy said, almost laughing at the terrible familiarity of it all. “Why do I think I’m going to regret that?”

“Clarke’s in trouble.”

Of _fucking_ course. Murphy chuckled bitterly.

“Clarke’s always in trouble.” _Like the last time I saw her, when she ditched me and left me in this godforsaken city with crazy bitch Ontari._

“They took her and the flame to the tower.”

The damn flame. Why did it always have to do with the damn flame? Murphy wanted to scream.

“It’s a safe bet Ontari’s there, too.”

Murphy froze a little. _Ontari_. The absolute _last_ person he wanted to see, ever.

“Everything we need to stop ALIE is in the same place,” Bellamy continued. “And if we stop ALIE, we won’t have to fight our way down.”

Murphy glanced at Pike, who sighed and handed Bellamy a gun. Murphy could see Pike internally saying, “It’s the right thing to do.”

“After this, doing the right thing can kiss my ass,” Murphy said, walking past Bellamy. They headed for the tower. Murphy was beginning to hate how well he knew the underside of Polis.

Up the tower in an elevator. With Bellamy. Alone.

_Cosmic joke._

They rode in silence for a while.

“You know we’re screwed, right?” Murphy said. Bellamy looked at him, confidence evident in his eyes.

“The plan will work.”

Another minute of silence.

“Why are you here?” Bellamy asked.

_I’ll be gone forever._

“Just trying to survive,” Murphy said, staring at the wall in front of him. When the silence from Bellamy told him that Bellamy didn’t believe him, he added, “You’re not the only one here trying to save someone you care about.”

The elevator jolted to a stop at one point and they found themselves fighting chipped soldiers. One tried to choke Murphy to death.

_Cosmic joke._

When they finally reached the throne room, Murphy spotted Abby Griffin dangling from a noose on the right. The memory of a rope tightening around his own throat cut off his air supply for a second and he ran straight to the doctor, cutting her down as fast as he could. He checked her pulse, nodding at Clarke’s frantic, “Is she breathing?”

He ran to Ontari, who was lying on the floor with black blood pooling around her head. Clarke was already ordering Bellamy to get the flame from Jaha. She handed Murphy a cloth and told him to hold it to the wound. He flinched at the black blood that soaked the cloth almost immediately, staring at Ontari’s face. She looked so much younger now, her eyes closed and an almost peaceful expression on her face.

He still didn’t feel the least bit sorry for her.

“What are you going to do?” he demanded.

“I need a flashlight,” Clarke said, despite that not answering Murphy’s question at all. Bellamy answered it.

“First we take out the chip. Then we put in the flame.”

“Her pupils are unresponsive,” Clarke said, sitting back. She exhaled shakily, closing her eyes. Bellamy inched closer to her, reaching out one hand.

“What? What does that mean?”

“She’s brain dead,” Clarke said, hopelessness choking her voice. “She can’t give us the kill code. It’s over.”

Murphy stared at her.

“We’re trapped here,” he realized. They’d destroyed every method of escape in their original plan, assuming Ontari wouldn’t be dead when they reached the top. They had no way out and no plan. They would either be killed or chipped if any of ALIE’s minions reached them.

_We’re all gonna die._

Clarke composed herself first, ordering Murphy to wrap Ontari’s head to stop the bleeding. She then sent Bellamy and Murphy out to secure the floor while she dealt with her mom. Murphy avoided any conversation with anyone, trying to push the memories of his time in Polis to the back of his mind. He pointed them to the Commander’s chambers, where the chain was still attached to the head of the bed. Bellamy glanced at it before tying up Jaha and the guards in the corner.

Once they’d cleared the floor, ensuring that nobody was lurking and waiting to strike when they weren’t paying attention, they headed back to the throne room. Abby was sitting up when the door opened and Bellamy raised his gun. Clarke leaned in front of her mom, saying, “No, it’s okay! I used the EMP. She’s back.”

Murphy frowned.

“What about Ontari?” he demanded. She was their only option. “I thought you said we only had one shot with that thing.”

“I told you, Ontari’s no longer an option for the flame. She’s brain dead. Is the floor secure?”

Murphy glanced at Bellamy, who looked about as happy as Murphy felt about the turn of events since reaching the top of the tower. He told Clarke that they’d cleared the floor and tied Jaha and the guards up. Pike jumped in to add that the stairs were collapsed. Clarke nodded.

“Good. We have time.”

“What we don’t have,” Murphy cut in, his hands flexing. “Is a way down.”

They ignored him, as usual. He stared at the ground, thinking of the millions of other places he wished he was. Throwing up in the basement. Being stabbed to death. Sitting in the cave and burning his fingerprints off.

“An ascension ceremony,” Clarke said. This caught Murphy’s attention.

“You just said Ontari wasn’t an option,” he said. What the hell was Clarke planning? Had she managed to pull another nightblood out of her ass in the last ten minutes? “Besides, she’s still chipped and we no longer have an EMP.”

“We’re not putting the flame in Ontari’s head.”

_Good. Good riddance._

“We’re putting it in mine.”

_For fuck’s sake._

 

* * *

 

“I need you to pump her heart.”

Murphy nearly had a heart attack of his own at those words.

“Are you crazy?” he demanded. “I’m not going to pump her heart!”

“Now!” Abby screamed. Murphy recognized the glint in her eyes that said that if he didn’t do what she told him to, he would get his ass kicked by a very pissed-off doctor mom. She showed him where to put his hand and soon enough he had Ontari’s heart in his palm. He squeezed it according to Abby’s directions. Abby said, “She’s stabilizing,” her hands on Clarke’s face. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

Murphy stood there, pumping the heart of the girl that had chained him up, threatened to kill him, and ignored the mark on his wrist. He thought bitterly, “This is the last time I do anything for Clarke, I swear.” But still, he stayed there, pumping, staring at the table. He didn’t look behind him, even when he heard the chaos of a battle beginning there. Instead he immersed himself in memories of the dream. He planned out the cabin, building it in his mind’s eye. Foundation, a room for him and Emori, a little living room with enough space for a table and chairs, a kitchen, and a room for Iko. He remembered Emori’s laugh, her hand uncovered and a yellow flower tucked in her hair. He remembered the feeling of Iko’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, and the way her weight had felt normal, expected. He remembered the peaceful walk to Arkadia, Emori’s hand in his and a smile on his face.

He desperately wanted that. He wanted peace, serenity, somewhere he could build a life without someone trying to kill him every five seconds. He could raise chickens. He almost laughed at the thought.

He could tell that the City of Light had shut down by the shouts of pain from behind him. He glanced over at Clarke. She was slowly coming to. Abby smiled, saying, “You did it.”

“A little help here?” Murphy called, nodding at the hand that was still pumping Ontari’s heart. Clarke understood, bending over and speaking the words needed to get the flame out. Once Abby had pulled it free, Murphy yanked his hand out of Ontari’s chest, shaking off droplets of the black blood.

_Disgusting._

Clarke turned to him.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. The bitterness in Murphy’s chest twisted a little.

“Just another day on the ground, right?” he said, shaking more blood off his hand.

“John?”

He turned at the sound of her voice, the sardonic smile sliding off of his face. She was standing a few feet away from him, tears sliding down her cheeks. He barely remembered running to her, his feet carrying him faster than he realized. He hit her and his arms were immediately wrapped around her (his left hand hovering a few inches away from her back to avoid getting black blood all over her). She was sobbing into his shoulder, clutching onto him like he was her lifeline.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, burying her face in his neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay.”

He held her as close as he could, feeling the broken part of him start to mend. He pulled her tighter against him when he felt her start to collapse, closing his eyes and listing all the reasons he was the luckiest man alive.

_Emori’s alive._

_She’s here, in my arms._

_She’s alive._

_She’s alive._

_She’s alive._

Her grip on him tightened as her sobs began to recede, until she was a silent mass in his arms. He didn’t let go, needing to hold her until he was sure that it wasn’t a dream, that he wasn’t going to wake up and find himself in chains again. Chaos went on around them, but in that moment, all that mattered was Emori.

When he finally did let go, he kept one hand in hers. They had to figure out a way to get down the tower and out of Polis.

She slipped away from him at some point, inducing a wave of panic in his chest that threatened to drown him. He searched the tower, but couldn’t find her there. He followed the others down the tower, looking for a familiar flash of brown hair and facial tattoo. He made it to the bottom of the tower and still didn’t see her. His left wrist itched. She was close.

He spotted Jaha moving bodies, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. He stooped down to help a woman who was sobbing over a bundle that Murphy guessed was a baby, but was greeted by the woman spitting in his face. A vindictive spark wormed through the worry in Murphy’s chest.

“Good to see you’re making friends,” he called. Jaha straightened, offering Murphy a half-smile.

“Good to see you made it down safely,” he replied. “I could use some help with the dead.”

Murphy’s lip curled.

_A knife pressing into Emori’s throat. Blood spattered on her face._

_“I’ll be gone forever, John.”_

“Go float yourself.” He gestured at the bodies, all victims of Jaha’s damn City of Light. “These dead are on you to.”

He spotted Emori over Jaha’s shoulder, bent over one of the bodies on the ground. He quickly jogged over to her.

“Hey. What are you doing?”

She looked up at him, her face devoid of its usual half-smile. Murphy’s heart skipped a beat for a second, remembering the dead-eyed expression from the City of Light. But her smile returned and he found a way to breathe again.

“Stocking up,” she said, pulling a wine horn out from under the dead man. “What does it look like?”

“Stocking up for what?” he asked, crouching down next to her. She looked up again, a hint of irritation poisoning her smile.

“It’s not safe for my kind here,” she hissed, holding up her left hand, encased again in its glove. “Frikdreina are forbidden. I have to leave this place, John.”

She got up and moved to another body. Bitterness twisted in his chest. She’d taken the chip, and now this.

“So what, you’re just going to bail on me again?” He tried to keep the tremble out of his voice.

“I didn’t bail on you.” She wasn’t trying to keep the way her voice shook a secret. “I came back.” She yanked something off of the body. “Took the damn chip because Jaha said it would take me to you.”

_She took the chip for him. She took the chip to find him._

He crouched down next to her again, barely hiding a smile.

“Come with me to Arkadia.”

That got her attention. She looked up at him, then laughed a little. She thought he was kidding. A part of Murphy thought he was too, truthfully.

_I was hoping you would take Iko to the market today._

“I’m serious, Emori,” he said, reaching out to grab her left hand. “Okay, we can be safe there, my people will protect you.”

 _For an old friend_.

“Are you sure about that?” She tipped her head and Murphy couldn’t stop seeing the shadow of ALIE behind her. “How many times have they cast you out?”

He lowered his gaze to the ground, remembering Bellamy’s angry voice, saying, “We banished him and now we’re gonna kill him.”

_Daddy, look! Uncle Miller says I can keep her!_

“It’s different now,” he said. He hoped it was different. After all the shit he’d done for Clarke and Bellamy, it had better be fucking different. “They owe me, okay, please.” He gripped her hand tighter. Her eyes dropped to it, to the spot where his thumb was gently rubbing circles over the glove. She looked up at the courtyard soaked in blood and covered in bodies, then back at him.

“Okay.”

His heart leapt and a smile crept across his face.

“Okay?”

She nodded, a smile of her own turning her lips upward. God, he’d missed that smile. It turned quickly into a smirk.

“We can still pick up a few things first, right?”

 

* * *

 

Night had fallen when they finally found Bellamy and the others. Emori was walking next to Murphy, her nervous energy practically tangible in the air next to him.

“I don’t like this, John,” she said. He slipped his hand into hers and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“Bellamy’s right there, just wait here,” he said. She glanced nervously at the group but waited where he said to. He walked towards them, steeling himself a little. He let his practiced smirk fall into place. “Never a dull moment, huh?”

“Bellamy, pay attention,” Indra snapped. Murphy listened. It sounded like they were talking about Echo, the crazy Ice Nation bitch that had taken over Polis in the aftermath.

“You offer them technology, guns, anything to keep her talking,” Kane said.

_Guns? What the hell was he thinking?_

“I didn’t agree to give them guns,” Indra cut in, her eyes flashing.

“Yeah, that’s probably because you’re not an idiot,” Murphy said, shooting a look at Kane. Kane shot one back, saying, “If you want to help, grab a weapon. Stand a post.”

“Take mine,” Bellamy said, lifting his rifle off his back. Murphy stared at him, the gun heavy in his hands.

_We banished him, and now we’re gonna kill him._

He followed Bellamy, who walked into another courtyard with some kind of busted-up fountain in the center. He went to stand between a couple of pillars. Ice Nation warriors began to stand up, swords flashing and Grounder phrases flying. Murphy’s eyes widened. Bellamy was going to get himself killed.

He turned around and headed back to Emori.

“Your plan was better. Let’s go.”

Of course it wasn’t fucking safe with his people. Since when did Bellamy and Clarke ever do anything _safe_?

They headed out of Polis, keeping their heads down. Murphy slipped his hand into Emori’s at some point, needing to make sure she wouldn’t disappear again. Needing to keep her safe. He ditched the gun, figuring it would make them too noticeable. The woods were quiet at night. They headed for the cave, checking Emori’s traps along the way. Murphy’s stomach began to clench with hunger by midday.

“I thought you said there’d be food here,” he said, tossing another empty trap to the ground. Emori was kneeling by the fire, peering into another trap.

“These woods have always been good to me,” she muttered. She lifted up a rock and let it fall, frustration overtaking her expression. “Now there’s not even bugs.”

Murphy snorted.

“Luckily, I’m not hungry enough for that to be upsetting yet,” he said, sitting down next to her. His stomach growled. He thought back to the last time he’d eaten. It had been in Polis. “I actually kind of miss Polis.” He didn’t notice the way Emori stilled next to him. “They had this drink there. It was sweet, made out of sheep’s milk.”

“Ontari gave this to you?”

_Cosmic joke._

He recognized the hard edge to her voice. He looked up at her, barely flinching at the bitterness in her eyes.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, she did.”

He was such an idiot. Talk about Polis in front of Emori? She was in the City of Light with Ontari. She would have known what Ontari had done, more specifically, what Ontari had done to Murphy. Leave it to him to talk wistfully to his goddamn _soulmate_ about something she already knew was terrible.

“I told you it wasn’t all bad,” he said.

“You told me you were trying to survive,” she said, staring into the fire.

“I was.”

“What else wasn’t _all bad_ , John?”

“Emori–”

“The sex?”

_Would she kill you if you ever did anything to upset her?_

_Cosmic joke._

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Fine.” Emori threw the stick she was holding into the fire. “Let’s not.”

She got up, walking around the fire.

“I didn’t have a choice, okay?” Murphy said, another, heavier chain weighing around his neck. _Guilt._ “Emori.” He hated the way his voice cracked, hated that she thought he’d thrown her away. She looked back at him. “I didn’t have a choice.”

Her eyes dropped to the ground and she nodded, coming back to the fire and tossing another stick in. She didn’t come back to sit by him.

_Cosmic joke._

He always seemed to fuck everything up. Even the one thing that was supposed to be impossible to fuck up. Leave it to Murphy to find a way.

The inside of his wrist burned.

They needed food. The rational part of him knew that Emori wasn’t really angry with him. She’d been in the City of Light. She would have known all the little details, like the fact that Ontari was a psychopath that had literally chained Murphy to her bed. Emori was lashing out because she was hungry.

The emotional part of him wanted to walk into a spear.

He got up, grabbing his bag. Emori shot to her feet as well, worry twisting her expression.

“Where are you going?” she asked. Murphy turned, letting a careless smirk fall into place.

“I’m going to Arkadia.”

Emori’s eyes widened.

“What? Why?”

“I’m a better thief than I am a hunter.”

“I’ll come with you,” she said, taking a step forward. Murphy felt all the tension from their argument drain from the air.

“No,” he said. He didn’t want her in Arkadia, just in case they turned on him again. “I’ll draw less attention alone.”

Her eyes dropped sadly to his chest. He stepped forward and set one hand on the side of her face, pulling her in for a short kiss. Not goodbye. Just “see you soon.” He pulled back and gave her a smile.

“Tonight, we feast.”

She still seemed worried, but said, “Okay.” He turned and headed out of the cave, mentally going over the walk to Arkadia. It would take most of the rest of the day, which was fine. He needed some time to think anyways.

As he walked, he inventoried the supplies that he and Emori would need. First and foremost was food. He remembered the last time they’d gone without food. Emori had started getting cold, shivering and curling up next to him for warmth more often. Her cheeks had hollowed and so had her eyes. No. Food was the priority. After that, anything else he could find.

Night had fallen by the time he reached Arkadia. Miller and his dad were standing at the gates. Murphy whistled a little, staring. It had certainly grown since the last time he’d been there.

“Look who’s back,” Miller said, the ghost of a sneer on his face. “I thought you ran off with your girlfriend.”

Murphy smirked.

“Jealous, Miller? Don’t worry, there’s enough of me to go around.” Miller’s eyebrows shot up. “Of course, Bryan would probably kick my ass.”

“You here to stay, John?” Miller’s dad cut in.

_I’ll come with you._

“Until something better comes along, yeah.”

He walked past Miller, towards the looming shadow of the Ark. It took a bit of walking around, but he found the storeroom. Raven was standing on a ladder, welding something on the ceiling with a mask over her face. She had her back to the door, so Murphy slipped around her. He found a shelf with packages of meat and started shoving them into the bag. Emori would know what they were.

He’d been in there for a minute when he spotted Abby walking in. He quickly ducked behind the shelves. Raven stopped welding and stepped down a step on the ladder.

“I already told Jackson,” she said, irritated. “We can’t spare anything. Especially not anti-radiation meds.”

_Anti-radiation?_

“We’re talking about seven doses.”

“That’s a quarter of our supply, Abby. A supply that has to last us five years. On an irradiated planet.”

 _Irradiated planet?_ Murphy was beginning to feel glad he’d come back to Arkadia.

“We’re going to need every one of those pills, and you know it.”

“You’re right,” Abby said. “We put you in charge of the supplies. It’s your call.”

Murphy’s eyes darted between the doctor and Raven. What was going on? What did they know that he didn’t? And why did Abby want anti-radiation meds?

“Will it work?”

Murphy jerked a little.

_“Will it work?”_

_“It has to.” Murphy’s dad smiled down at his son. “Just relax, John. I’ll be right back, okay? I’m going to get you some medicine. Everything is going to be alright.”_

“Can you guarantee the medicine will save them?”

_“John, take this. It will help you.”_

Murphy stared at the two women.

“There’s a child in there with them.”

The words hit Murphy like a sword to the gut. _A child_.

_He gets the flu. His father steals medicine that it turns out wouldn’t help anyways._

“No.”

Abby’s angry words continued and Murphy tried to regain his balance, shutting his eyes against the memories that flooded his mind.

“Even if we could save them today,” Raven said. “They’ll be dead from radiation inside two months.”

_Dead from radiation?_

Emori. He had to get back to her.

Abby said something else that made a tear drip down Raven’s face. The doctor left and Murphy’s mind raced. Radiation was coming for them, that much was clear, and Emori knew nothing about that. Did the people in the Ark know, or was it just a few that did? The whole thing reeked of Bellamy and Clarke.

_There’s a child in there._

He waited until Raven was back on the ladder, the mask pulled down over her face, to quietly break the glass of the medicine cabinet and take the meds. He made his way to medical, his bag of supplies slung over his shoulder. Abby was sitting hunched over in the middle of the room, staring at the floor. Murphy glanced around. A few bodies were already covered. He swallowed hard and looked away, walking up next to Abby.

“You looking for these?”

 

* * *

 

The little girl died in Luna’s arms. Luna’s sobs filled Murphy’s ears and he shut his eyes, trying to block out the sound. Raven confronted him for stealing, but he managed to slip away before she could hit him. He headed back for the cave, his mind reeling with all he’d seen and heard.

Emori was lying with her back to the cave entrance when he walked in. She jumped to her feet at the sound of his approaching footsteps.

“Finally,” she said, her lips curving into a relieved smile. Murphy’s heart skipped a few beats, his eyes locked on that smile. He’d missed it those long weeks in Polis. He’d dreamt about it, praying for the day he’d get to see it again. Here it was, after weeks of hoping, and a wave of radiation was threatening every small scrap of happiness he’d found.

He pulled her into a tight hug, burying his face in her shoulder. She was the only thing in the damn world that was any source of happiness for him, and he’d be fucked if he was going to let a storm of radiation fuck that up.

“There’s a storm coming, and when it hits, we need to be on the right side of that door.”

 

* * *

 

When they saw the house, Murphy slipped his hand into Emori’s and squeezed. He still remembered waking up clean and finding Jaha meditating. Meeting ALIE.

This could be their safe house.

After the ordeal getting to the lab, most of the group was happy to stay there and start poking around. Murphy and Emori went up to the house, avoiding the main entrance and finding a side door that went through the kitchen. Emori had never been there before and was content to wander around with one hand in Murphy’s. She was amazed by the little things, like the running water in the sink (he couldn’t wait to show her the shower) and the lights that turned on when they walked into the room. Murphy had to admit that he was also impressed by Becca’s house, but he at least understood things like electricity and plumbing.

Emori finding the toilet was a real special moment.

They found a bedroom near the back of the house that they claimed for their own. Emori had never slept in a real bed before and was asleep within two minutes of curling up on top of the covers. Murphy laughed a little at her and kissed her forehead on the way by. He headed to the shower and turned the water up hot, scrubbing the dirt and grime off his skin. He kept thinking his soulmark was a patch of dirt when he turned his arm over. He found himself staring at it, leaning against the wall in the shower. After years of living without one, it was almost surreal to have one.

It was even more strange to think that the person that had the twin to it was sleeping twenty feet away.

He shut off the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel and drying off. Emori was still asleep in the bed, so he headed out of the bedroom, back towards the kitchen.

_Can you cook those while I get Iko dressed?_

He wanted to learn how to cook.

He found a few cookbooks in one of the cabinets and picked one randomly, grinning when he found a section at the beginning that went over the basics of cooking, like how to use different pots and pans and basic skills. He explored the kitchen, finding pots and pans and bowls and utensils. He picked a recipe from the book at random and checked to see if there were ingredients for it.

While he was searching one of the cabinets for basil (what the fuck was basil anyways and why did the recipe need it? The world may never know) he found what looked like a radio of some kind. He squinted at it. The markings and words were all faded from repeated use. It was too big to remove from the cabinet, so he said to himself, “Fuck it” and just hit “play”.

Becca was apparently only into music over 200 years old. It was all stuff that Murphy recognized from some of the music archives on the Ark as being from the 2010s. He turned it down a little and kept cooking, nearly cheering when he found a whole cabinet of spices.

Emori found him standing over the stove, stirring the vegetables in a large shallow pan.

“What are you doing?” she yawned, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her cheek on his shoulderblade. He chuckled at little at her sleepiness.

“I’m cooking,” he said. “Something called ratatouille. It’s apparently a traditional French dish.”

Emori yawned again and peered over his shoulder at the sizzling vegetables. She frowned.

“There’s no meat in that.”

“I know,” Murphy said, smiling. “But it’s supposed to be really good.”

She whined a little when he moved and went to sit down at the counter, resting her head on her arms and watching him finish cooking. He glanced over his shoulder at one point and saw her watching him with a peaceful smile. He turned back to his cooking, barely hiding a smile of his own.

When the dish was finally finished, he turned to Emori and held out the spoon.

“Taste,” he ordered. She sat up and leaned forward to eat the vegetables on the spoon. Her eyes widened and she looked up at him.

“Incredible,” she said, peering around him at the stove. “How did you make that?”

He laughed and scooped out more into a bowl for her to eat. She came back around to his side of the counter and hopped up onto it, her feet swinging as she ate. Murphy leaned against the stove (checking that it was off first) and watched her eat with a smile. The music kept playing softly in the background, filling the silence.

Emori set her bowl in the sink, hesitantly turning the handle to make the water run. She grinned brightly when she was successful and Murphy bit back a smile.

_They’d built a home together._

A [song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WpyfrixXBqU)he recognized from when he was a kid started playing and he lit up, setting aside his bowl.

“Dance with me,” he said to Emori. She raised one eyebrow at him and laughed a little, clearly thinking that he was joking. “I’m serious.”

“John–”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her closer.

“My parents used to dance to this,” he explained, guiding her through a few of the steps. “It’s not quite a waltz, but it’s similar.”

“What’s a waltz?”

“Never mind.”

She got the hang of it after a few seconds, laughing when he pulled her just a little closer. He grinned and spun her under his arm, surprising another laugh out of her. The sound went straight to his core, warming him from the inside out. He began to hum along with the music, twirling Emori under his arm again. She grinned at him, stepping in closer and pulling him down for a slow kiss. Murphy smiled against her lips, his eyes drifting shut.

It was his own version of heaven.

 

* * *

 

Murphy found a remote-controlled car to entertain himself while Raven was running tests in the rocket. He made it spin around the lab until the batteries died. Not wanting to hunt down others, he pulled a rubber ball out of his pocket and started throwing it against the wall. With every catch in his left hand, he caught a glimpse of the soulmark on his wrist. It had begun to fade the second Emori left to meet Clarke and bring the fuel to the island. He missed her.

He'd started to notice little things about the soulmark now that he wasn’t so focused on survival. The way it was the first place to get warm when Emori was near him. The way it would burn until he woke up when Emori was having night terrors. The way it faded gradually the further she got from the island.

“ _Brace for impact._ ”

Raven’s frustrated scream echoed from the rocket. Murphy shook his head, tossing the ball again.

“All work and no play makes Raven a dull girl,” he said into their comm. A second later the rocket door opened. Murphy caught the ball one more time, flicking his sleeve expertly so that it fell over his soulmark. Raven climbed out, her face twisted. Was she in pain?

“Are you alright?” he asked Raven. Maybe she needed to talk to Abby –

She shoved him.

“I have had _enough_ of your little jokes,” she spat. Murphy stepped back.

“Why don’t you take it easy, huh?” he said. Raven turned and got in his face.

“You’re just a self-loathing bottom feeder,” she hissed. “Abby is an idiot for trusting you, but I know you better. You’re a leech, Murphy. Sucking people dry and taking whatever you can so that _you_ can survive.”

Anger flared in Murphy’s chest as Raven turned away from him.

“Yeah, at least I’m not a mental patient like you,” he muttered.

 _Cosmic joke_.

By the time Luna reached them and pulled Raven off of Murphy, he was certain he would have at least one or two bruises. He watched as Luna pulled Raven to the ground and rocked her back and forth, murmuring something in Grounder. He was surprised when the little chant actually calmed Raven down. He flinched away when she stood up. She held his gaze for a minute, then said, “Let’s go again.”

“She’ll be alright,” Luna said, still sitting on the floor. “Will you?”

_I hate you! I hate you!_

_You killed your father. It was your fault. I hate you._

Murphy let out a mirthless chuckle, pulling the comm from his ear.

“The darkness can kiss my worthless ass,” he said. He tossed the comm at Luna. “Congrats. You’re the new Raven-sitter.”

He walked up to the office, pulling his sleeve down and staring at the faded mark. What was it that Luna had said? Maybe if he learned it, he could actually help Emori when she woke up with night terrors. He gave up after a few tries. He’d never bothered to actually learn the grounder language and he couldn’t get what he was saying to sound like what he’d heard Luna saying.

What made him angriest about what Raven had said wasn’t that it wasn’t true. It was that it was. He was worthless, just a bottom-feeder who never thought of anyone but himself.

He had started trying to repeat the grounder phrase again when Luna walked in.

“It’s the intention that matters,” she said. Murphy glanced up at her. She offered him a half-smile. “Raven’s been in there a long time. She’s stressed.”

“Yeah, well in case you haven’t noticed,” Murphy said, a sardonic smile twisting his lips. “Raven hates my guts.”

“I don’t think that was her talking.”

“Oh it was,” Murphy said. “You know that little limp she’s got? Yeah. That was me.”

Luna seemed entirely unfazed by this information. She had a good poker face, Murphy had to give her that much.

“I don’t think she hates you for that.”

_Liar._

“As much as you hate yourself.”

He did hate himself. He hated himself almost as much as he loved Emori.

“Why do you care about all this, anyway?” he asked, letting some of the bitterness in his chest worm its way into his words. “You’re the miracle, right? You’re going to live through the radiation either way.”

This elicited a slight response.

“Maybe I don’t want to be the last person on Earth.”

“Really,” Murphy said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “Why? Cause that sounds kind of nice to me.”

Luna gave him a half smile.

“I don’t believe that.”

_You’re right. Just me and Emori. That would be great._

“You don’t know me very well,” he said, letting his mask fall into place. He wasn’t about to spill his guts to another damn nightblood. He didn’t have a great track record with them.

“I know that you stole medicine to try to save Adria,” Luna said. “I know you saved Raven from the drones.”

“And I’m definitely rethinking that decision right about now.”

“I know what it’s like to hate yourself, John.”

Only Emori ever called him John anymore. It was different to hear it from someone else’s mouth. Not good. Just different.

“Because of the color of my blood,” Luna continued, moving to sit in front of him. “I was raised to be a killer. The Flamekeepers–” _yeah they were a fun bunch_ “–harnessed my rage and taught me it was nobility. For years, I reveled in death and violence.”

Murphy looked up at her.

“I killed my own brother.”

He found himself unable to look away from her. There was something both mesmerizing and haunting about her eyes. He could tell she’d been through a lot.

“So trust me when I say this,” she said. “If I can find peace, so can you.”

He’d found peace. It was just not with any of these assholes in the lab. His peace was in the kitchen, Emori’s arms wrapped around his waist and her cheek pressed into his shoulderblade. His peace was the sleepy rasp of her voice when she told him to come back to bed when he got up early to make breakfast. His peace was the way she would always smile when she kissed him. His peace was brown eyes with golden flecks and the weight of her left hand in his.

_Blood spattered across her face and terror in her eyes. The bloody knife still clutched in her hand._

“I think peace is overrated,” he said, staring at the table. “It’s the fighters that survive.”

Luna waited for him to say something more, and when he didn’t, repeated the correct pronunciation of the mantra she’d said with Raven until he got it right. Then she got up and went back down to the lab. He sat there for a while longer, repeating the grounder phrase and wallowing in self-hatred. He glanced down at the mark on his wrist. It was even more faded. He let his head fall back against the back of the chair and banged it against the wall a few times before he got up and headed back down to the lab.

Luna was sitting cross-legged on one of the tables, mumbling in grounder while Raven muttered angrily to herself. She smacked the console of the computer she was at. Luna said her meditation chant a little louder and Raven snapped, “Meditating isn’t going to help me land the stupid ship!”

“No,” Murphy said, taking the stairs down two at a time. “But it might keep your brain from blowing up.”

He heard her mutter, “Great, he’s back,” and proceeded to pretend that he hadn’t. He reached the bottom of the stairs and stuck his hands in his pockets. Raven was back to muttering to herself. He glanced at Luna and got a look that told him that Raven had been at it like that for a while.

“It has to be perfect,” Raven muttered, smashing something else into the keyboard.

“Maybe perfect is your problem,” he said. Raven turned her head to glare at him.

“What?”

“Perfect sucks,” he said, walking toward her. He maintained distance. “Who cares about perfect? As long as you and Abby walk away with the magic potion, right?”

This seemed to irritate Raven more.

“A controlled crash is still a crash,” she snapped.

“Swim away,” Luna cut in. Raven’s eyes lit up.

“A controlled crash into water.” She turned back to the computer. “Luna, that’s brilliant?”

Murphy felt a little offended.

“Luna?”

“The computer won’t let me execute a controlled crash,” she said, slamming her fist down on the console.

“So screw the computer,” Murphy said. “Fly it yourself.”

Raven seemed to think on that for a second, then adjusted a few things on the computer and headed for the rocket. Murphy turned away. His work there was done. He was going back to the house and cooking something before Emori got back.

“Murphy.”

He turned to see Raven staring at him.

“Thank you.”

_About goddamn time._

* * *

 

“Mom? Come in.” Clarke’s voice crackled from the radio. Murphy grabbed it and hit the button.

“It’s Murphy,” he said. “What’s up?”

A moment of silence, then – “We lost a barrel of hydrazine.”

_Cosmic joke._

The breath whooshed from Murphy’s lungs and it was all he could do not to kick the nearest thing over. He wasn’t the rocket scientist, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew they needed every last drop of that fuel, and now they didn’t have it.

He spotted Luna out of the corner of his eye. He shut his eyes, managing to say to Clarke, “Alright. I’ll let Raven know.”

“We’ll see you all soon.”

Murphy didn’t bother to respond to that. He tossed the radio onto the counter and slammed his fist down next to it. It was all over. That was their last hope.

Stupidly, a part of him had been dreaming about what life could have been like if they were immune to the radiation. He’d thought that they could stay at the house. He’d thought about the possibility of being able to cook for Emori every night, getting to see her brilliant smile and hear her laughter. He’d imagined what it would be like to dance in the kitchen with her again, except whenever they wanted.

How stupid that had been to think about.

“We need to tell Raven,” Luna said. “She’s still trying to figure out a way to land the rocket.”

“Just–” His voice broke. “Just give me a second.”

The mark on his wrist burned. Leave it to the cosmic joke that was his life to dangle happiness before his eyes and snatch it away at the last second.

He straightened and headed for the lab without checking to see if Luna was following. When they got there, Raven was climbing out of the rocket and shouting joyously, “I did it! It took every last drop of fuel, but I did it!”

She saw the look on Murphy’s face and her smile faded a little.

“What’s wrong?”

“Clarke just radioed,” he said. “We lost a barrel.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

He found out from Abby that what happened to Raven next was a seizure. He figured he would stay out of the lab before he caused another medical emergency. Besides, Emori would be back soon with Clarke and co.

He needed to cook.

* * *

 

He was in the kitchen, music up to blasting, dancing along and stirring his latest concoction when Emori and Clarke walked in. He’d known they were coming beforehand, as his soulmark had darkened to a deep black. Emori started punching in the numbers for the security system while Clarke walked into the kitchen.

“You can cook,” she said, sounding surprised.

“Mmm-hmm,” Murphy said, turning to check the cookbook.

“You can _read_.” This one sounded even more surprised. Murphy smirked, turning to look at Clarke.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “Why are all the good ones taken?”

Emori laughed a little, leaning on the counter next to Murphy.

“A good cook is rare,” she said. “John would be celebrated by any clan.”

_Thank you, Emori._

“Yeah, he’s a real catch.”

_No thank you, Clarke._

He held out a spoon for her to taste. She would learn.

Her expression changed completely when she tasted the food.

“Oh my God.”

Murphy allowed a smug smile to crawl on his face, tossing the spoon back into the pan. Emori slid in next to him, her right hand reaching around him. His arm landed around her shoulders naturally and she tipped her head up to say something in his ear.

“She’ll learn soon enough how amazing you are,” she said quietly. Murphy could hear the smile in her voice. “I already know, but I’m not teaching her.”

He laughed a little, pulling her closer.

“I’m going to go get cleaned up,” Clarke said, her tone practically screaming awkwardness.

“Yeah, let me show you where to go–”

“Up the stairs,” Emori interrupted. Murphy glanced down at her, surprised. “Down the hall.”

“Thanks,” Clarke said. She disappeared. The second her footsteps faded, Emori turned to Murphy and said, “We’re getting out of here.”

“What?”

She pulled out of his arms and started shoving food into her bag.

“Now? Why?” he asked, still standing in the same spot. He was tired. It had been a long day.

“I’ll explain on the way to the bunker.”

“I already told you, the bunker’s not an answer.” She didn’t say anything to that, just kept shoving things into her bag. “What’s going on? Did you see something in the woods?” A more terrifying thought occurred to him and he subconsciously stepped closer to her. “Are the scavengers back?”

“Even the scavengers wouldn’t do to me what your people are about to.” She moved to another drawer.

“Hey, Emori, stop,” he said, grabbing her shoulder and pulling her up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“They’re going to sacrifice someone to test nightblood,” she said. Murphy’s stomach dropped into his shoes. “Who do you think that’s going to be? Clarke? Raven?” His eyes dropped to her hand. “I’m the outsider, John, the frikdreina–”

“Slow down. Slow down, Emori,” he said, grabbing both of her shoulders. She was shaking, trembling like a leaf. “Look at me. Hey. Look at me.”

She finally did, her eyes filled with a familiar fear. He rubbed her upper arms a little.

“Breathe.” She let out a shuddering breath and his thumbs started making little circles on her shoulders. “Tell me everything.”

“I overheard them talking in the lab,” she started.

Murphy stayed still as she explained what she’d heard. Anger bubbled in his chest. Just like Clarke. She was always willing to sacrifice someone to save everyone.

“Okay, I’m going to talk to Clarke,” he said, setting his hands on Emori’s face. Her eyes widened. “Hey, look, I’m just going to poke around a little, see what they’re planning. I’m not going to let them test you.”

She nodded and he kissed her forehead.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t worry.”

He headed for the guest bedroom Emori had directed Clarke towards, his mind spinning. Emori hadn’t come to an illogical conclusion. Of all the people on the island, he and Emori were the most likely to be tested first. His chest constricted at the thought and he sped up a little. That wasn’t going to happen. He wouldn’t let them test her.

Clarke wasn’t in the bedroom when he got there. He frowned. There was an odd tapping sound coming from one of the smaller offices down the hall, so he followed after it. He spotted Clarke standing at the window, her back to the door, and pushed the door open. She immediately whirled around, aiming her gun at him. He threw his hands up, a cold feeling spreading in his chest at the sight of the barrel of the gun.

“Whoa, relax,” he said. She lowered the gun and he lowered his hands. “Look, we gotta talk–”

“Shh.” She gestured at the window. “There’s someone here.”

Murphy’s eyes dropped to the broken glass and a metal belt tightened around his chest.

_Emori._

His soulmark burned white-hot and he heard her voice, clear as if she was standing right next to him.

“John!”

“Emori!” He sprinted out of the office, down the stairs, and to the kitchen. He found a man he didn’t recognize on top of Emori, a knife hovering barely three inches above her face. She was holding him off as best she could. He grabbed a wooden cutting board off the counter and hit the man as hard as he could, roaring, “Get the hell off of her!”

The man fell backwards off Emori, the knife clattering to the ground. Murphy’s chest twisted with rage and he hit the man again with the cutting board. He’d touched Emori. There was blood on the kitchen floor and blood on her face and Murphy’d be damned if he let him get away with that, no, this man was going to die –

“Wait!”

He froze, the cutting board halfway to the man’s head. Emori glared at the man, getting to her feet.

“He’s mine.”

Murphy’s eyes widened and he threw the cutting board to the side, catching Emori before she could lunge at the man. She was going to hurt herself more than she already was.

“If we don’t kill him now, he _will_ kill us!”

“You know him?” Clarke demanded. Emori glared at the man on the floor, blood smeared in the corner of her mouth.

“Baylis.”

Murphy’s eyes widened and his arms around Emori loosened a little.

_“Baylis was the worst,” Emori said, staring into the fire. Murphy scooted a little closer to her, offering his presence as comfort. She acknowledged it by closing her eyes. “He was the ringleader. He wanted everyone under his control.” She turned her arm over to reveal a neat set of scars on her arm. “If you didn’t want to be under his control, he tried to convince you.”_

_Murphy’s hand slipped into hers._

_“The last time I saw him, he threatened to kill me,” she said. “Because I’d stolen a piece of meat from him. He’d been starving me, trying to get me to do what he wanted. That was when Otan and I got out.”_

“She’s lying,” the man said. “You don’t know me.”

“You said you’d kill me!” Emori screamed, jerking in Murphy’s arms towards Baylis. “Well guess what, you son of a bitch? I’m gonna kill you.”

Murphy wrapped his arms around her tighter, holding her back from attacking Baylis. She needed to get the injuries on her face checked out. She was going to hurt herself. He would gladly let her kill Baylis once that was done, but he had to make sure she was okay first.

“Just let me go,” Baylis said, raising his hands. “I’ll leave the food and you’ll never have to see me again.”

Emori straightened and Murphy let go, one hand on her shoulder. She’d seemed to have calmed.

“Is he alone?” Clarke asked.

“Not usually,” Emori said. Murphy couldn’t tear his eyes away from the blood smeared on her face. Three gruesome stripes of blood slashed down the right side of her face from a wound somewhere near her hairline. He wanted to strangle Baylis himself for laying a finger on her.

“Where are the others?” Emori asked. Baylis started to say something else. She kicked him before he could get more than a syllable out. Murphy just stood there, watching as Emori kicked Baylis again. He didn’t feel too inclined to stop her all of a sudden. He wanted to see Baylis’s blood splattered on the kitchen floor the Emori’s was. He wanted to kill Baylis himself.

“Emori, wait!”

Damn Clarke. Always ruining everything.

“If he’s not alone, we need to know. Murphy, take my gun.”

Murphy took the handgun from Clarke and tucked it into his waistband. He grabbed the cord from one of the appliances and used it to tie Baylis up. Emori and Clarke went upstairs to take care of Emori’s wounds. He found a chair in the living room and tied Baylis tight. Baylis woke up at some point while Murphy was tightening the knots.

“Look, I just came here for the food,” he said. “For things I can trade. I scavenge so my family can eat.”

Murphy chuckled darkly.

“That’s it,” he said, pulling the gun out of his waistband. “Find the right angle.” He pressed the gun to Baylis’s thigh. Emori wouldn’t mind if Baylis had a few bullet holes in him when she got to him. So long as she got to kill him. “I’ll give you a hint.” He leaned in close. “I love someone who was beaten and tortured by a man–” he pressed the gun further into Baylis’s leg. “–who thought he could control her.”

“I’m not that man,” Baylis said, desperation in his eyes. “You can torture me all you want, but that won’t change the fact–”

Murphy saw Emori coming out of the corner of his eye and backed up, letting Emori land a hard punch on the man’s jaw. She punched him again and leaned in close.

“Who’s the scared child now, Baylis?”

_“We were just children. Otan and I. I was terrified of Baylis and his group.”_

“For my brother.”

She hit him five more times before Clarke said, “Wait!”

“What?” Emori demanded.

“You’ll kill him.”

“That’s the idea,” Emori snapped.

“Why don’t you stay out of it and just let her have this, Clarke,” Murphy said, his ears ringing from the last time Emori had woken up screaming from night terrors. He knew that Baylis was a large portion of the reason.

Clarke’s eyes darted between Emori and Baylis. She stepped closer to Emori.

“What if his death could save us all?”

Murphy’s eyebrows shot up as Clarke explained that they could test Baylis, stumbling over the words a little. Emori agreed to it and they called Roan up to the house to help them carry Baylis to the lab. Murphy and Emori stood above the rest, watching from the stop of the stairs as Abby prepped Baylis for testing.

“I hope he survives,” Murphy said. The dreams he’d had about staying in the house may not have been as dashed as he’d thought.

“Me too,” Emori said, her eyes locked on Baylis.

“Yeah,” Murphy said, remembering how Baylis’s blood had splattered on the wall. “Then you can kill him.”

Emori turned her head and a slow smirk spread across her lips.

“Why would I do that?”

Murphy’s eyes widened as he took in the significance of those words.

“That’s not Baylis?”

She shook her head slowly. Murphy stood up, staring at her. He couldn’t decide if he was impressed or horrified or what.

“Emori, who is that?”

She didn’t take her eyes from the man in front of them.

“Someone other than me that’s going into that oven,” she said. Murphy slowly returned to where he’d been. Impressed. He was definitely impressed. She’d managed to con her way to survival.

“That’s a survivor’s move,” he said, looking at the somber group below them. He felt Emori relax next to him. She’d been nervous about revealing her con. He smiled to himself. She was clever.

The universe had picked the perfect person for him.

They moved down to the lower level when it came time to put the man into the radiation chamber. Murphy stared at the man that they were throwing under the bus. He tried to dredge up sympathy for him, but all he could think of was, _that could have been Emori. That could have been Emori and it wasn’t._

“He’s ready.”

“Yeah, but are we?” Raven muttered. A silence fell over the group.

“The guy’s a monster,” Emori cut in. Murphy’s gaze bounced to her. Her fear was practically tangible in the air around her. She was afraid that they would figure out her lie and put her in the chamber instead.

“We’ve been over this,” Clarke said. “None of us wants to do this.”

“Are we really still talking about this?” Murphy asked. “Black rain is already here. Eighteen people died in it at Arkadia yesterday, so if nightblood lets us walk around in it, I for one want to know about that.”

That seemed to convince everyone. Jackson started up the chamber. Emori shifted next to Murphy and they watched the test proceed. At first, everything went well. Murphy began to hope.

Then the man woke up screaming.

Emori took a step back from the chamber and her hand found Murphy’s. She was shaking like a leaf, her eyes wide. The inside of Murphy’s wrist burned.

_I’m scared._

Black blood sprayed from the man’s mouth, staining the inside of the chamber. Emori turned her head into Murphy’s collarbone and sobbed once. He squeezed her hand, shutting his eyes and turning his face away from the gruesome sight.

“What have we done?” Abby whispered. Murphy murmured the mantra that Luna had taught him to Emori and she repeated it back, her voice shaking.

That was what Murphy got for daring to dream.

_Cosmic joke._

* * *

 

“We could save everyone,” Abby said. Hope sprung in Murphy’s chest, as much as he tried to stamp it down.

“You’re saying this could still work?”

“Not without testing.”

_There it is._

He sensed Emori shift behind him and stepped in front of her a little.

“–screaming in agony, and you want to try it again?”

“Give us a better idea, Raven,” Clarke said.

“So what,” Murphy cut in. “We go out? Hunt for someone else?”

“Nobody’s going anywhere in this storm,” Miller said.

“So we wait for it to pass.”

“What is wrong with you people?” Luna demanded. “Hunt for someone. Even _Baylis_ honored the dead. He wore the stones of his Rock Clan ancestors.”

Shit.

_Cosmic joke._

“I thought Baylis was Sangedakru,” Clarke said, frowning at Emori.

“He was. He was also a thief. He probably stole those.”

Roan cut in and Murphy knew they were fucked.

“A thief that didn’t bear the mark of Sangedakru.”

Clarke’s eyes widened and she looked up at Murphy and Emori.

“That wasn’t Baylis, was it?”

Murphy’s mind raced for a way to salvage the situation. He had to protect Emori.

“Clarke, that’s crazy, of course–”

“Who did we just kill!”

Emori bolted. Murphy panicked, reaching out for her, but she was already past him and going for the machine.

“Emori, no!”

“John, destroy the machine!”

Roan caught her and pressed a knife to her throat. Murphy stepped forward to do something and found a gun pointed at his head. Miller’s expression was stone cold.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Murphy.”

Murphy stared at Miller, remembering the first days on the ground, when they had been friends. A lot had been different back then. He never would have imagined that they would have ended up there.

“Guess we know who’s next,” Roan said, pressing his knife further into Emori’s throat when she struggled. Panic choked Murphy and he took another step towards Emori and Roan.

“Hey!”

He’d seen enough of her blood in a day. He didn’t need to see more.

“Come on,” Miller said, gesturing towards the launch doors that hid the rocket. “You and your girlfriend.”

Roan dragged Emori along and Murphy walked with a gun to the back of his head. Emori stopped struggling halfway. Seeing her give up made Murphy a hundred times angrier. He turned to Miller, beginning to shout, and got a gun pressed to his forehead. They were lead to the rocket. Emori sat and waited for them to handcuff her. She’d accepted her fate, which made Murphy even angrier.

“You can’t do this to us,” he said to Miller. His old friend ignored him, tightening the cuffs around Murphy’s wrists. “You can’t do this to us! She was just trying to save her own life!” The doors began to slide shut and Murphy panicked even more. He even begged Raven to help them. Then the doors were shut and he and Emori were left there. He pulled frantically at the cuffs, trying to figure out a way to get them off. The mark on the inside of his left wrist was getting progressively colder, a fact that was scaring him more every second. Emori sat deadly still, staring into space. Murphy kept pulling at the restraints, ignoring the scrapes and bruises that formed under them.

He was trying to bite through the material when Emori said, “John, enough.”

He let his hands fall to the ground, leaning against the ladder and staring at her.

“You can’t stop this,” she said. Her eyes were hollow.

“No,” Murphy said. “No, Emori, I’m not letting this happen to you.”

“You have to.” She looked at him. He reeled back a little.

“What?”

“Make them think you’re okay with this.” _Like fucking hell_. “Make Clarke think that you’re still with her.”

“Emori I’ll kill her if she even tries to come near you–”

“No, dammit, John, think!” Her entire body turned towards him and his throat closed up at the sight of unshed tears in her eyes. “Don’t give them a reason to pick _you_ next.”

He stared at her, biting back tears of his own.

“Survive. Please.”

He looked down at his wrist, at the black mark that felt like ice. Before he could say anything to Emori, the doors rolled open and Clarke walked in. Murphy stood, staring down at Emori. Clarke wouldn’t look either of them in the eye.

“It’s time.”

“Guys, wait, okay, just hear me out,” Murphy said, panic tying a noose around his neck.

“John,” Emori said desperately.

“It’ll work this time.”

“Then how about we just go with that?” Emori asked, her eyes shining. “And forget the test?”

Clarke lowered her eyes and nodded at Miller. Murphy saw the injection in Miller’s hands. Emori saw it too and turned to look at him one last time. He found himself caught in her gaze, everything she couldn’t say in time spelled out in her eyes.

_I love you._

_Please survive._

_I love you._

“Miller, Miller don’t–”

The injection hit Emori’s neck with a slight hiss and she collapsed sideways. Rage poured into Murphy’s chest and he yanked against his restraints.

“Miller I swear to God I’ll kill you–”

Roan put a knife to Murphy’s throat as Miller cut away Emori’s restraints and lifted her onto his shoulder.

“Miller, come on, you don’t have to do this.”

Miller wouldn't meet Murphy’s eyes either.

“I wish that were true.”

He carried Emori away, out of Murphy’s sight, ignoring Murphy’s shout of, “You don’t have to do this!”

Roan removed the knife and followed after Miller and Emori, leaving just Clarke. Murphy dropped his eyes from the last place he’d seen Emori and glared at Clarke.

“Who the hell do you think you are, huh?” he demanded. Clarke’s eyes shone a little, but Murphy didn’t give a rat’s ass how she felt. Not when the words “survive, please” were playing on endless repeat in his head.

“I’m trying to save us.”

“Save us?” Murphy almost laughed. “Alright, _Wanheda_ , savior of us all, but maybe you’re forgetting that the last time you saved us, _I was saving you_!”

He’d pumped Ontari’s heart to keep her alive. He’d nearly lost Emori that time too. He’d done his damn best to help Clarke and they still didn’t give two shits about him.

“I’m not forgetting.”

Her voice broke and Murphy was suddenly on his knees, begging.

“If you haven’t forgotten, then please, you don’t have to do this.”

Clarke looked away from him and a hard ball of hate formed in Murphy’s chest.

“You know, it’s too bad you weren’t a real nightblood,” he spat. “Because then you could’ve been commander. Imagine how many people you could have killed then!”

He turned his face towards the ladder to hide the tears that threatened to force their way to the surface.

“Tell me something,” he said, turning back to Clarke. “After you murder Emori, am I next?”

Clarke looked away again and Murphy nearly sobbed.

“Please, I’m begging you, I love her!” He pulled against the restraints. “Don’t do this.”

Clarke didn’t say anything.

“She’s my soulmate!” Murphy shouted. That got Clarke’s attention. He showed her the mark on his wrist as best as he could with the restraints. “Please, check her wrist. She’s – she’s my soulmate. She’s someone’s soulmate.”

Clarke stared at the mark on Murphy’s wrist. It was most likely the first time she’d ever seen it.

“You can’t do this,” Murphy said, his voice hardening. “You can’t treat her like she’s worthless. She’s somebody’s soulmate. She’s _loved_. You can’t treat her like she’s worthless. You can’t do this.”

“Emori will be fine,” Clarke said, thought she sounded more like she was trying to convince herself. She turned away and Murphy’s chest imploded.

“Hey. Look at me.” Clarke turned around. Murphy narrowed his eyes. “If she dies, _you_ die.”

The doors slid shut between the two of them. The mark on Murphy’s wrist was so cold it burned. He turned away from the doors, staring down at his feet.

The scream tore through him like a knife. It was the scream of a dead man, the scream of someone whose other half had been ripped away. It cut a hole deep inside of him, somewhere near his heart. A part of him he’d barely known existed six months before was suddenly torn from him and he screamed at the pain. It was pain like he’d never known before.

It was the scream of someone who had lost a soulmate.

When his throat gave out, he leaned against the ladder, sobbing quietly. She was gone. Would she die like the man they’d thrown in the oven before her? Screaming, in pain, alone? Would she think he’d abandoned her?

Would they show him her body?

The unwelcome image of Emori’s skin marred by blisters from the radiation wormed its way into Murphy’s mind. His brain got more graphic, adding black blood splattered on her face, trailing from her nose and mouth.

He would have screamed again if he could have.

He’d been there for longer than he cared to count when the doors slid open. He curled in on himself further. She was dead. She was dead and now they were coming to take him too. He would join her.

“Leave me alone,” he whispered, his voice broken and cracked like his heart. No one said a word. A gun was put to his head and Roan cut the restraints around Murphy’s wrists. Murphy shifted a little.

“Come on, Murphy,” Miller said. “Don’t freak out.”

“Why would I freak out?” Murphy asked, his eyes shut. He didn’t move from he’d been sitting. “You’re just coming to kill me now that you’ve murdered Emori.”

“Murphy.”

He pressed his head into the barrel of the gun, opening his eyes and staring Miller down.

“Do it.”

“Murphy–”

“Do it!”

“She’s alive.”

Murphy’s gaze snapped to the Ice Nation king, who was standing to the side with his arms crossed over his chest. Murphy shot to his feet.

“What?”

Roan said nothing more, just gestured towards the doors. Miller removed his gun from Murphy’s head and he went for the doors, nearly falling down the stairs in his haste. Clarke met him at the door.

“Murphy–”

“Go float yourself,” he spat. “Where the hell is she?”

She didn’t even need to answer. He spotted Emori lying on a table in the back of the room. He shoved past Clarke and sprinted to Emori’s side, nearly falling to his knees. She was alive. She was still asleep, but she was alive. She looked the same as she had when they took her from him. They’d removed her headcovering and the outer layers of her clothing, but other than that she was the same. No blisters, no black blood streaming from her mouth. He grabbed her hand, clutching it in both of his.

“You’re alive,” he whispered. He bowed his head, tears dripping from his nose. “You’re alive, oh my God.”

They left him alone for a minute. He turned to Clarke.

“I don’t understand.”

“We’re not testing Emori,” she said, and he could read the fear in her eyes. “We’re testing me.”

Murphy couldn’t find it in himself to feel at all bad. Emori was alive and that was all that mattered.

He wouldn’t let anyone near her, not even Abby, until she woke up. She opened her eyes slowly. The first emotion he saw was panic and he quickly put his hands on her face.

“Hey, hey,” he said. He couldn’t help but smile through his tears. “You’re okay.”

“John?”

“You’re okay. They’re not going to test you.”

She sat up slowly, tears of her own filling her eyes as she took him in. Murphy wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest. Warmth spread from the inside of his wrist. She was alive. She was alive.

“I don’t understand,” she said, her voice shaking even more than she was.

“It’s okay,” Murphy said, holding her tighter. “You’re okay.”

Once they’d both calmed down, he explained to her that they were testing Clarke instead. She took his hand gently and turned it over, studying the bruises and scrapes on his wrists.

“We should take care of that,” she whispered.

“It can wait,” he replied. She frowned at his broken voice.

“You sound like hell.”

“It’s from screaming.”

Her expression fell.

“John–”

“It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

He helped her off the table, keeping one arm around her. They waited there as Jackson prepped Clarke for the test. Murphy kept his eyes on Emori most of the time, his hand lingering on her waist.

They were about to start the test when Abby stepped in Clarke’s way.

“If you go in there, you’ll die.”

Murphy glanced up at Abby, hate burning in his chest. Of course it was certain death now that someone less _expendable_ was going in.

He could feel Emori’s anger as well and pulled her a little closer. The two of them stood there and watched as Abby destroyed the radiation chamber. Murphy didn’t move from his spot, watching as the glass cracked and broke.

_Emori almost went in that. Let her smash it to pieces._

Once the machine was destroyed, Abby slid to the ground next to it. Emori grabbed Murphy’s hands and tugged him away.

“Your wrists,” she said. Murphy glanced down at the angry red marks again. Emori pulled him over to a first aid kit and picked out some bandages. Murphy just stared at her, drinking in all the little details. The way a strand of hair had fallen from its usual place and was laying across her cheek. He let her wrap the bandages around his wrists, discreetly adjusting them a little when he thought she wasn’t looking. When she was finished, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his shoulder.

“Never let me go,” she whispered. Murphy wrapped his arms around her.

“Never.”

**Author's Note:**

> Damn this was fun. Beta reader was Tommy as usual. And I got to rewatch all of their scenes together for research purposes ;)  
> I'm not gonna lie i wrote this whole thing just for that last scene from 4x08 when he's begging Clarke and then I got lowkey carried away  
> Let me know what you thought!
> 
>  
> 
> I haven't slept in two weeks someone kill me


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